Private Tales Legacy of the Damned

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
By force if need be. Oh. She might like that. And Akiza might like to watch. But that was a vista on the other side of the bridge, so to speak, as they both still had their audience with King Jürgen before them.

The commencement of music preceded Afanas's telling more of his father. Maybe there was an occasion for said music, but Akiza couldn't spot it. In any case, the tune's somber character fit the environs, so Akiza thought.

...Make what you will of that information.

Akiza held up her hands in a mock surrender. "You got me. Caught me right off guard. I don't know who Queen Maben is." She put her hands down. "But I'll take it your father's been around for a long time."

And after a moment's consideration she added, "Hmm. Never been to Malakath."

Afanas
 
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Afanas frowned. Akiza was a vampire. She could wield magic. How could she NOT know who Queen Mab was? Mab, who held both reverence and hatred in Arethil's magical community.

"Your ignorance is almost amusing, Akiza."

"Mab is the Queen of the Winter Court and mistress to many an unseelie fae. Amongst the fair folk, her influence is matched only by that of Queen Titania of Summer, her…contrasting counterpart."

"My father says she's over ten millennia old, give or take a few centuries and that she holds as many titles as there are ways to die."
 
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Fae. For the longest time, even for a while into her vampirism, Akiza had thought them to be merely tall tales; for while many races and creatures populated Arethil, the full scope of which likely unknown to any one person, there among the truth lurked stories born of imagination or misunderstanding. Still Akiza knew scarcely anything of them (she didn't know what "unseelie" meant, for instance), as it just never occasioned any true import in her life.

"Now my ignorance is dispelled," she said.

Ten millennia though. Boesarius would love to mount her head on his wall, no doubt. As for Akiza, she had an inevitable respect for anyone or anything able to live that long. The odds were just against it. Credit were credit was due and all.

"How about you? Would you like to live that long?" A bit of an assumption that he wasn't already that old, but, as far as assumptions went, it was a safe one to make. "I would. I might as well. Seeing that I am the way I am now. It wasn't an option before, so it was a different case. But now it is. And I figure: why not? I just need to make sure I don't catch a silver bolt to the heart. Or anything like that. And then," she gave a small nonchalant shrug, "I can just keep going."

Afanas
 
Afanas grunted, fingers steepled under his chin, his brow furrowed in concentration. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to silence the noises of merriment coming from all around them. In that stillness, he sought clarity, hoping to untangle the threads of his contemplation.His eyes opened, coming to rest on the kingly form of Jürgen Kaiser. The monarch of Reikhurst couldn't have been all that old, certainly nowhere near ten milenia of age.

Mab, on the other hand, predated most mortal civilizations, especially human ones, from which stock Jürgen undoubtedly hailed.

"I do not know. If to live is to suffer and struggle, then life eternal would equate to suffering ad infinitum."

He smiled, briefly, the corners of his lips twitching upward.

"What I do know, though, is that death can have me, when it earns me."
 
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What I do know, though, is that death can have me, when it earns me.

There in Akiza's eyes came a red shine, a glimmer of admiration and endearment. What a way to put it! Nearly in direct defiance of his previous statement, here was a sentiment Akiza couldn't help but to enjoy. Afanas despised death as a veteran soldier despised a coward, saw it not as a thing to be feared but as a thing unworthy, and that it would have to bring more than its best—it would indeed have to forge a new best—in order to claim him. All the tools he had at his disposal he would use to shame death all the days of his life, sending it scurrying away like a scolded dog, tail tucked between its legs, until such time as it could mount a properly mighty effort.

What wasn't to love about that?

A bit of redness showed on her cheeks, and she said, "That's good. I'll credit you. If I ever steal that line."

And then the space before the throne cleared, and the way was open to King Jürgen. He sat in his armor and regal garments, and in his clawed right hand he held the Bloodstone, the ancient artifact which granted him much of his power. His eyes turned then upon Afanas and Akiza.

"Come forth," he said to them, "and let us speak."

Afanas
 
Afanas dropped to one knee and inclined his head. His posture was humble, shoulders slightly hunched, conveying deference. As he rose, he maintained eye contact with the monarch, ensuring that his gaze remained respectful yet confident.

"Your majesty," he began, his voice steady, "I am greatly pleased that you humored my request for an audience." He spoke with clarity, enunciating each word carefully, mindful of the weight they carried in the presence of royalty.

"I come in search of aid, military aid. I am here on a commission by Alliria's merchant council. It is mine utmost desire to reach a truce with you, one that'll, hopefully, allow me to restore order to the city of commerce."
 
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Such a gesture as Afanas offered to the King was foreign to Akiza; most social customs in her long travels on the run throughout Arethil were. But she was nothing if not an improviser, quick on her feet, and in so catching sight of Afanas from the corner of her eye did as he did in her own offering of deference. It just looked better if they did the same motion.

And the essence of Afanas's entreaty came next.

2947.jpgKing Jürgen inclined his chin, his interest piqued. His long awaited retribution against his homeland and his people, who had many centuries ago failed him, took many centuries in turn to reach its fruition. And now this new Kingdom he had forged stood as a work with years—a small number of years, but years—to its establishment. Yet in this time his Kingdom had to exist as a shadow, unspoken of, and when the rulers of Arethil who basked in the daylight above thought of Reikhurst they thought only of the ruined, "haunted" city.

One desire now outshined the rest. King Jürgen wished for his New Reikhurst to be recognized, formally recognized, as the Kingdom it was. And now this man—not kindred of the turned vampires, so Jürgen sensed, but a being of the night nonetheless—delivered this news, hinting that this recognition might be so, or soon to be so.

He pondered for a moment, but a small smile did grace his countenance as he sat in quiet contemplation.

"Tell me," he said, "what plagues Alliria these days? It must be dire indeed if they seek parley with Reikhurst and not a nation more...amenable to their tastes."

Afanas
 
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"Nothing good, I fear." Following up on his response, Afanas shook his head, feeling uncannily naked now that his hat was all but stolen from him.

"The merchant princes have enlisted great many foreign mercenaries in their service. In the same breath, the city watch has dwindled. The council has lost its monopoly on violence, or at least the brunt of it, leaving the commerce elites virtually untouchable under the law."

"They need a new fighting force, one so strong that its mere presence would strike fear into the hearts of potential mutineers without necessitating bloodshed."

"Unfortunately, the council has not the monetary resources to pay for such an army, if one even existed."
 
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King Jürgen listened with great attentiveness.

And then he delivered his response: "So they in their desperate hope turn to those whom they would otherwise spurn. Yet it is clear to see why they would so spurn; the common bird seeks no kinship with the hawk, nor does the deer befriend the wolf, and neither does the antelope court favor with the lion. There is an order to things. So in the wild, so in the world of Man and Mortal. They fear us as they ought. But, as you say, the Council of Alliria needs that which they lack. Their power slips from their grasp, and men so positioned ignore their principles in favor of practicality."

Clawed fingers contemplatively touched his chin.

"How come you into their service? Do they disregard their terror of you, or do you walk amongst their kind, with them ignorant to your true nature?"

Afanas
 
"I frighten them as much as any foreign would-be warlord. Yet in truth, I am no warlord, for I have no desire to rule a kingdom welded together by blood and fire. I wholeheartedly understand that it's one thing to seize a city with the aid of its subjects and rule them with their consent. And another to subjugate a foreign realm and rule it by fear."

He gave Jürgen a long, hard look, his dark, almond shaped eyes reminiscent of twin gemstones behind a canopy of loose bangs that framed the rest of his handsome countenance.

"I extended my generosity to the council. It was of their own free will that they accepted it. Not once did I attempt to force their hand into striking an unfavorable bargain with likes of mineself."
 
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A raising of brows and a puckering of lips upon hearing the unexpected.

"Surprising," said King Jürgen, giving voice to his expression. "Hardly would I have thought it so, but here you are." He thought for a moment and then continued, "Alliria is known as the Center of the World, the great cosmopolitan city. Perhaps this desperation of theirs has encouraged them to open their arms a little wider. I spoke just before of the order of things, of prey and predator. Yet there is a distinction which I omitted that I shall say now: the world of beasts is simpler than that of Man and Mortal. Yes, an agreement can be reached despite the divide between our kind and theirs. And perhaps these Allirians will come to know that though the curse of vampirism is upon me, I yet hold to Reikhurstan honor; and mayhap this will surprise them in turn."

And now the King came to it.

"So the Council of Alliria wishes a fearsome cohort. Very well. What are they prepared to offer in return?"

Afanas
 
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"International recognition. I've learned that Reikhurst lacks formal recognition as a sovereign entity. Should Alliria, the trading center of the world, acknowledge it as a fully-fledged kingdom, its numerous trading partners will have no choice but to do the same."

"Then there's the matter of nourishing your people. I'd be more than willing to send your way the numerous bandits, cutthroats, and insubordinate mercenaries threatening Alliria's trade routes; you may do with them as you please."

"Lastly, you owe my father a favor. It is within my right to request recompense in his absence."
 
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All fine points of negotiation made by Afanas—this evidenced by the King's small but visible approval of each. Here the slight curve of smile at the mention of Reikhurst's formal recognition, there the subtle nod at the tangible offer of receiving the banished, the unwanted, from Alliria's jurisdiction (the Bloodstone, though powerful, could only satiate so many vampires, and thus prompted the hunting for thralls). No insignificant trade, either of these.

But it was the last point which truly commanded King Jürgen's attention. At once the light of recognition came to his eyes and then spread to his features, and he saw then the same tall man before him, yes, yet changed. With the unmistakable connection made, Afanas was not merely an envoy, not any longer. Now with his claim made and his right requested honor was invoked, and as it was reasonable, King Jürgen could not refuse him.

"Ahhh," he said at length, "I see it now. What was only a vague thought has crystallized into clarity. I sensed that you were not of our kind, not even differentiated by strain, but by your very nature. Yet take heart. I say this not in foreboding and hostility, but merely do I muse how my ancient years have continued to sharpen my senses rather than dull them. Your father, I will say, is a man of eminent power."

And now Akiza, looking somewhat puzzled by this exchange, attracted the King's attention, and he said to her with a hint of amusement, "Did you not know? Has the truth of your companion's nature somehow eluded you?"

"Your Majesty, I..."

Not knowing what else to say, and with confusion in the moment undispelled, she looked up to Afanas for what answer he might give.

Afanas
 
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Akiza Sonshal

Afanas stood perfectly still, shoulders slightly slumped. His chest rose slowly as he drew in a deep breath, then he exhaled it with a long, drawn-out sigh. The sound escaped his lips like the wind brushing through dry leaves—soft, weary, and heavy with unspoken thoughts. His eyes flickered downward, lost in whatever weight he carried with him, and for a moment, the room seemed to quieten around him.

"It is as the king says it, Akiza. I am no vampire, but, in my humble defense, you made that assumption without bothering to confirm it."

He cleared his throat.

"They call us Psuchephages, soul eaters, life devourers. We are native to Malakath, but I was born here and lived much of my life near the spine."
 
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Psuchepage. Soul eater. Life devourer.

"Oh," she said, more bemused than anything. "You're right. I assumed."

The sting of one's intuition being wrong was a rare, if familiar, feeling to Akiza. She'd credit her survival for so long to having a keen sense of danger and opportunity, branches most crucial on the tree of intuition. But here she had been mistaken. Well. Wouldn't be the first time. It would be the first time she'd heard of a "Psuchepage"—and first time she'd met one too.

To smooth over any awkwardness, she said, "You still cut a sharp physique."

King Jürgen returned them to the matter at hand, satisfied with the digression remaining a short one. He said to Afanas, "Now then. So you wish to invoke the name of your father to make your request of me, thus settling my debt to him. Very well. Declare it now, that you, as your father's son and in his stead, so claim what is owed. Know then, that if your father is by chance displeased with your action, the debt of honor shall be upon you. Though I am certain you are aware of the weight of that which you ask, put it formally to voice, and we will have an accord."

Afanas
 
Akiza Sonshal
Afanas stood tall and resolute, feet shoulder-width apart in a posture of firm grounding—rooted like an oak. He allowed his left hand to rest over his heart. Holding his head high, he'd fix the King with a sharp, unwavering stare.

"Most solemnly and with full awareness of the weight such words carry, I do now declare: As my father's son and in his stead, I do claim what is owed, not in presumption, but in rightful succession. If, by any fate or divine witness, my father should look with disfavor upon this act, let the burden of that honor—and its consequence—rest solely upon me."

The silence was deafening.

"I stand accountable, in words and in deed."
 
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And with a slow and deliberate wave of his free hand, King Jürgen declared: "It is done. I shall have the force so requested assembled in no more than three nights' time, and for those of my warriors who swear to this mission, you shall for the duration wield authority over them as though it comes from me. Take this vampiric company, these citizens of my new Reikhurst, and fulfill the wishes of the Allirian Council. Know that while some may be of little or no aid during the day, surely you will rule the night, and your foes will fear to setting of the sun. Know also that the warriors who accompany you will be nearly all of the same stock which aided me in my own retribution against the Reikhurst of old—their years are rivaled only by their prowess, such is their veterancy. With them, pacify Alliria to your satisfaction, and to the satisfaction of those in whose behest you act."

To this the King would add one small note, a thing not part of their accord nor binding in any way, but a personal request.

"A final item. If, by chance, you should speak to or hear from your father, send him my warm regards. Tell him that the gates of Reikhurst are open to him. Many are those of the daylight kingdoms, and few of us who call the night home. And with this as it is, I would not scorn a friend; not new, not old."

Afanas
 
"I fear neither of us will see my father anytime soon, your grace. He's in Malakath at the moment, undoubtedly in the process of repossessing one of our kind's ancestral haunts."

Afanas bowed out, sauntering away until he was a dozen feet behind Akiza. He offered the lithe woman a friendly wink, which did something to break his otherwise stolid exterior, even if only for a moment.

"The spotlight is yours."
 
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Akiza, if she in that moment had been pressed to tell the truth, would have to say she felt a touch nervous as Afanas withdrew from the radiant gaze of the King's attention. Her time to go forward. What could be so wrong? This was the whole reason why she had come here. Well, mayhap all her time on the run had indeed made her something of a recluse, someone who more so shunned center stage now than before. Afanas did well in speaking with the King. He was probably used to there being kings. For Akiza that was the other odd point, as in her faraway and forgotten home the idea of a male ruler, a man in prominent power, was quite foreign, and something she still to this day found herself unaccustomed to.

But she swallowed that momentary anxiety and greeted King Jürgen, introducing herself and making ready to explain. Quite like Afanas, as it turned out, she too had come at the behest of a people not quite her own. And the Vaiz Onder Elias Elissal had briefed her thoroughly, giving her many words to say, anticipating what questions might be asked and how she ought to answer. She effectively lent only her legs in travel and her tongue in talking to this task—the rest was Elissal himself, speaking through her.

She came to it, using her own natural brevity to truncate the Vaiz Onder's more eloquent, flowing—and Akiza would say "verbose"—style. She had come from Gild (this news as much of a surprise to the King as Afanas's announcement of his origin from Alliria, if not more so). She represented a powerful figure within Gild, though she made clear that she could not say whom. And what she asked for was this:

A non-aggression pact between New Reikhurst and Gild.

King Jürgen found this stranger than Afanas's request for warriors. Here, what the King's petitioner stood to truly gain eluded him, for it was not obvious. Akiza explained:

Not merely Gild, but nearly all of Campania, knew that much of the region's vampire attacks generally originated from the west, even if they knew not that they came from Reikhurst. The figure whom Akiza represented did know this, of course, and wished to bend Reikhurst's predations in Campania to the mutual benefit of both cities. For the Armistice, the period of general peace, would soon be broken, and not just any war, but a Great War, would rage in Campania. If Reikhurst focused its ambitions and its attacks on the western border of Campania, all those nations there, it would weaken those places and put Gild at the advantage in the west; it could choose to focus there against enfeebled enemies, or leave it be with little worry and focus east, south, and north.

King Jürgen nodded, seeing the strategic benefit on Gild's end with this proposed pact. But what, he asked, would be the true benefit for Reikhurst? Gild was not in a position to threaten Reikhurst now, and especially not if this so-called Great War broke out.

Akiza smiled a little, actually fond of this part of Elissal's plan for its—in her humble opinion—pragmatic brilliance. She spoke to King Jürgen of the thing which did threaten Reikhurst: the Reikhurstan diaspora itself, those survivors scattered across Epressa after the night of Reikhurst's fall. For years they weren't a problem to him and his designs. They were broken, dispirited, perhaps nostalgic and wishfully hoping for a restored Reikhurst but content to live their new lives elsewhere, thinking such an endeavor to be an impossible dream. But now they were being rallied, their strength and numbers growing, arms and resources being secured, allies like monster hunters and Templars being garnered, and soon they would come to Reikhurst intent on making that dream come true. One woman was reponsible for this. One woman, the shining figurehead of the movement, around whom the entire endeavor was centered and without whom it would all come crumbling down, for it was her drive and her hope that ignited the same in all her fellow Reikhurstans.

King Jürgen sat up straighter in his throne, anticipating what Akiza was going to say.

And indeed she said it: "For a non-aggression pact between Reikhurst and Gild, we will kill Herr Heike Eisen."

The King brought a clawed hand to his chin, considering. And armed with Vaiz Onder Elissal's argument and method of persuasion, Akiza delivered the final portion of her request:

"With Heike Eisen gone, the Reikhurstans will once again be broken. They will despair. But this is where Gild comes in again, and both Gild and your New Reikhurst will prosper.

"The news of Eisen's death will reach Gild. We will send envoys to the mass of Reikhurstans. We will invite them to come to Gild, to live there rather than return to their scattered homes. Many of them also believe in Jura, and this is the appeal. The Jurists among them can be persuaded to, in turn, persuade their kin. And they will come to Gild. Assimilate into Gild. And we will turn their attentions away from the impossible dream of Reikhurst and to a better one. We will gain their significant manpower, and you will lose an enemy—without ever having to strike a blow yourself, Your Majesty."


They talked for just a few moments more, and the King assented.

The pact was secure.

"Go then," he said, "and tell your employer that Gild will be spared from the red eye of Reikhurst's attention, and that, when this war you foretell erupts, the west of Campania shall be our hunting ground. And I look forward to hearing the news of the troublesome Herr Heike's demise."

King Jürgen looked to both Akiza and Afanas now and said in closing, "Come, if you are thirsty, and partake of the Bloodstone. But if you prefer, as many of my own subjects do, the taste of natural blood and carnal thrill of feeding, feel free to partake of the thralls in this hall instead. And if you are not thirsty, hospitality remains yours, and you are welcome to stay in Reikhurst until such time as you see fit to leave, attending to your duties as you must."

Afanas
 
Afanas listened to the story, even though he knew next to nothing about Gild besides its rough geographical location and the fact its inhabitants had a bone to pick with magic and magic users. He eyed the bloodstone for a small moment, then King Jürgen, followed by Akiza. He shook his head with a dismissive shrug, his broad shoulders slouching ever so slightly.

"My kind's strength is directly proportional to the vitality of our prey. It would be beneath my honor to gorge myself upon the blood of slaves and thralls, kind as your offer may be."

He paused.

"That is, unless you've got something more exotic than ordinary humans in your repertoire."
 
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"I understand," said King Jürgen. "Though my own personal stock reflects that which may be found in the surrounding lands, namely those ordinary humans of which you speak, still one of my subjects, perhaps, has gone afar, and has secured for himself or herself a more exotic thrall to suit their taste. Such is their pleasure to do, if they so desire. You are free to treat with them, if indeed they wish to treat with you. No intercession is required from me, save only that if you say yourself to be an honored guest of Reikhurst, you will speak truth, for I declare it so."

And now Akiza, once the King's attention turned to her, decided it best to take up his offer and partake of that Bloodstone of his. She didn't want to cause offense by refusing; whether there was merit to this concern didn't matter, really, as in her mind it merely was the pragmatic thing to do.

She was a bit parched, after all.

So she accepted and stepped forward and, at King Jürgen's instruction, knelt before him and placed her hand on the Bloodstone as he lowered and offered it. A surge both powerful and subtle, strangely, coursed through her, both like the euphoria of feeding and not, of thirst being slaked and thirst simply fading away, a high and a low, the heights of the sky and the depths of the earth. When she withdrew her hand from the Stone it was as though Arethil snapped back into being, and she blinked, for a fleeting moment disoriented. A blood drunkenness come and gone in that very blink of the eye...but she was satiated. The feeling truly was unlike any other.

She bowed to the King and was dismissed in courtesy and then came again to Afanas's presence, alongside him.

She smiled and said, "That all went quite well."

They both got what they wanted. A victory so clean and simple she could almost shed a tear over its pristine beauty. Almost.

Afanas
 
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Akiza Sonshal

From amidst the crowd, a chilling silence spread as a figure stepped forward.

He emerged slowly, each footfall echoing ominously.

Pale and gaunt, with a grotesque, almost corpse-like complexion stretched tight over sharp bone, the man commanded instant attention. His eyes, sunken yet piercing, glowed faintly with predatory menace. A long, fur-lined cloak lay draped over his withered frame, brushing the floor with a regal yet savage elegance.

As he moved through the gathering, lesser vampires shrink back instinctively. His lips curled slightly in a sneer, revealing elongated fangs as his gaze swept the room like a scythe.

"If thou would permit it, your highness, I might have something of interest for thy honored guest."