Completed Namesake

[Griffyn]

Griffyn nodded. Straight to the point, that was for the best. He watched Sunderland for signs of tension, the classic lines around the eyes he had been taught to look for. But she gave nothing away. Nothing but the slightest tilt of the head.

"Captives, you say?" she replied. "We have a couple of debt-runners in the gaol, that I am aware of. Neither is an elf, however."

She turned to the clerk askance, and he nodded his agreement.

"You say one of the enemy told you this?" she continued to Hahnah. "I am sorry to say that he must have been mistaken. Or perhaps this was some sort of play to bring question to our credence. You say he was elven?"

Griffyn answered with a gesture of his hand. "We wished to explore this development with you further. After all, if the enemy crosses that sort of border, then they are unlikely to be geographically linked but..."

"...-but more likely ideological in nature. Yes, the thought had occurred to me." Sunderland folded her arms with a frown. "Still, it does not change the fact of the matter. And allow me to be extremely clear on this point, as I fear the effect of this misinformation should it get out."

She fixed the two of them with a fierce gaze.

"This city holds no elven prisoners, and no elves are being held here against their will. You would do better to ask for something else."

Griffyn's brow tensed. She wasn't outright lying, as far as he could tell. But that meant very little, in this business.

Hahnah

 

[Hahnah]

Hahnah did not even know for certain that there were elves. All she had was the word of an elf who had been on the opposite side of this struggle which threatened her life and Griffyn's life. Yet it was enough. Still enough, despite all of the things she had seen and all of the things which had happened to her since her transformation and following her new bidding. She clung with a perhaps desperate grasp to the tattered notion that all elves were good people. The rags of her belief still she could hold for a little while longer.

And so she did not like what Eloise told her. To Hahnah it had the sting of a boldfaced lie, even if it was the truth as Eloise knew it.

Hahnah flexed her fingers. Subtle movements down by her sides. And her eyes stayed locked on Eloise.

"I would do better to reiterate for that which I have asked," she said. Her low tone no longer sounding detached, as she had tried to be earlier.

"The elves are not being held in that place you call the gaol. Maybe that is so."

She in her narrow and intent focus upon Eloise forgot that Griffyn was right next to her, that he had mentioned that the prisoners--if there were any--might be held in a secret place beneath the manor. And, more importantly, that he had said explicitly not to do anything brash. It did not come naturally to her to take an approach less direct. And to her, good people could well be suffering at the hands of the profane. Of which...she was the cleanser.

Her tone. Lower. Slower. A question without inflection. "Where are they."

Griffyn

 

[Griffyn]

Griffyn watched Hahnah anxiously. He sympathised with her feelings, the simmering anger and need for justice. But a conflict here would not end well for them. They had no solid proof, and were surrounded by possible opponents. Griffyn's newfound popularity with the soldiers of Menura would only take him so far.

But she was hiding something. Her words were too careful, her stance too rigid, for it to be anything else.

"My Lady, if I may," he said, taking half a step forward. "I appreciate that we've only heard one side of this, the side of an enemy no less. But we are both committed to finding the truth of this. I can't imagine the elf that I... that I killed, I can't imagine that he was outright lying. When he could have simply finished me off, he chose to seek his family. There must be something to that. Some rumour, perhaps, or a misunderstood gesture. Please, is there nothing at all you can think of that might have provoked this?"

Eloise Sunderland leaned back against the map table. She sighed, and the stern tension in her brow faded away. Griffyn waited with anticipation.

"It is nothing, truly," she said at last. "Simply a misunderstanding, as you say. But... You may not know, but Menura is famed for its jewelry. We are blessed with a number of skilled craftsmen who specialise in silverwork accessories and fine trinkets. Here, actually, allow me to show you."

She moved to the door at the end of the room and stepped into her office. When he returned, she had clasped in her hands a brooch of uncommon beauty. A griffin's head, proud and noble, with a pair of silver wings as its backdrop. She handed it over to Griffyn, who held the piece with reverence.

"The incident occurred earlier this year," Sunderland continued. "We were set to sell off a shipment of trinkets such as this in a caravan heading for the capital. A travelling group of elves were passing through at the time. One of them... He held the notion that the only person capable of crafting these items was his brother, who had been missing for some time. Apparently they match his signature style. The elves could not be talked down. They attacked the caravan, taking the items and swearing they would return. And return they have."

Griffyn's thumb rubbed at the gold of the brooch. He could almost see his own reflection in the griffin's face, warped by the contours of the metal.

"We have all tried to explain this situation to our attackers, but have not wanted this tale to spread too far from the city. The original craftsmen... they were to a man killed in the fighting. It is, I'm afraid, our word against theirs. And I will not have the people of this city punished for a crime they did not commit."

He looked up, and her eyes were intent on his, alive with fire.

"I will have this city recognised for what it is. I will not have slander against our good people."

Hahnah

 

[Hahnah]

Griffyn stepped forward. Slightly so, but forward enough. Enough for Hahnah to flick her eyes over to him and to be reminded of his presence before he spoke again. It was the only thing holding her back from advancing to actively threatening Eloise. To killing the servant Liam and moving to break Eloise's fingers, one-by-one, has she had done with Reginald prior to entering Strathford. Doing this until she ran out of fingers and then doing it until she ran out of toes and then doing it to every bone she could feel through the woman's skin until she got an answer that satisfied her.

"I trust you."

But she did not do these things. She remembered what she had said to Griffyn, how she had come to say it, and kept herself in check. For now.

A misunderstanding. Hahnah did not think so. She did not care how famed Menura was for the things called jewelry, or how many men of crafts infested the city. The brooch was...shiny, avian, qualities that Hahnah did like. And when Eloise told that story of the caravan and the travelling elves and the violent disagreement, Hahnah sided without question with the elves. If the telling of the story was as accurate as its truth in reality, then the elves had done only good. She believe their account and knew that they had cleansed the profane--

And return they have.

We have all tried to explain this situation to our attackers...

The fire of intensity dropped out of Hahnah's eyes as it simultaneously alighted in Eloise's own. Her head sinking down a little lower as a realization raced through her mind.

The Reds. The Reds. If this story was true? If this was not in whole or in significant part a lie? If the Reds truly had come to Menura and put a siege upon it because they were here to liberate or avenge one elf or perhaps even many elves? Then what was she doing on the side of they who were almost assuredly perpetrating cruelty upon Elvenkind?

Hahnah reached over in a slow and silent motion. Grabbed at the back of Griffyn's sleeve and the arm underneath. Squeezed. Her hand quivering as she held. Her head hanging even lower than before, such that her hair was dangling about the sides of her face and concealing much of it from view.

"Good people..." she whispered.

In Elvish.

Griffyn

 

[Griffyn]

Griffyn couldn't help but falter as the words of Sunderland's story played out. An assumption, a misunderstanding, and then bloodshed. Short tempers had flared, kicking up a sudden inferno, because of a mistaken identity. It all sounded very plausible. The Lady of the city had proven herself to be a proud woman, dedicated and driven. And he had heard of the fabled arrogance of elves. Perhaps this was all down to two people unable to concede on their opinions.

He felt Hahnah's hand at his arm. He blinked in surprise as she leaned into him. Whispered something. His slow mind drudged through the Elvish lessons of old to decode her words, and then eased its way to understanding why she had said them. He felt the shaking of her fingertips, could feel the heat of her breath on his cheek. And he knew he didn't have long before her patience ran dry.

He stood up straight and glanced at Lady Sunderland.

"You say your attempts at discourse have fallen on deaf ears," he said. "Perhaps someone else would have better luck. Someone the enemy are more likely to trust."

"Commander von Spurling, I must protest," she said with a shake of the head. "You truly believe the enemy would invite you into their confidence after their attempts to end your life mere hours ago?"

"Not me, my Lady," he replied. "But we do already know that Hannah will catch the attention of those that make decisions within the enemy faction. I'm sure that with some measured words we can deescalate this entire situation. And if not, I can be with her to help make an escape."

He looked down at Hahnah.

"Do you agree?"

Hahnah

 

[Hahnah]

Hahnah's simmering turmoil was seized in a moment of pause. Not me, my Lady. Griffyn meant her, and went on to say as much. She lifted her head, looking first at a point just over Eloise's shoulder and then over and up at Griffyn. She had plainly evident in her expression a tension. But also, measured hope.

"Yes. I agree."

Somehow, a span of time so short felt like a span of time that stretched for far longer. Her thoughts, motivations, the actions which carried her from hour to hour, all seemed to be altering this way and that, tiny adjustments and larger adjustments along the path until she had drifted quite far from her original destination.

It was at first that she distrusted Griffyn as much as any other human, and wished for nothing more than to escape this siege and to shed some human blood on the way out.

And now...things were different.

Much different.

Lives were at stake.

And, on an unspoken level that was very much akin to the endless dark hovering at the edge of a torch's light, Hahnah knew as well that her world--all the foundational beliefs which comprised it--was at stake. Deeper, darker yet: she could not say, since the disrupting discoveries of walking among them, whether her world was worth saving.

Quick and small nods for emphasis. Reiteration, for the same. "I agree."

Griffyn

 

[Griffyn]

He nodded, and smiled down at her. Relief.

"I did not take you for a fool, Spurling," came the simmering voice of Eloise Sunderland. "And yet, what you suggest is foolish. Your young friend may be allowed to speak with our Red enemies as a neutral party, but do not delude yourself that the savages will not simply annihilate you on sight. After all you have done to disrupt their efforts, and since they clearly are aware of your appearance, I can see neither of you returning to the city once you leave. You must not do this."

Her hands were tightened into fists at her sides, brow low and arched, and her shoulders were hunched up like the flank of a hunting cat. But Griffyn shook his head.

"I appreciate your concern, my Lady, but surely you see that this is the best way to conclude the siege without bloodshed. And we needn't come to them with full honesty. Hannah can take the lead - we've seen they are likely to hesitate before striking her down. And I can go... i-in disguise."

The words sounded silly as he let them out into the air. Instantly he was struck with a memory of trying on his father's too-large hats with his sister as a child. But he knew that to leave Hahnah to tackle this by herself was something that he could not do. He had to be there by her side, or neither would go at all. Pushing his heart towards acceptance, he shrugged with a sheepish smile.

"I need a haircut anyway."

Sunderland sighed, shaking her head slowly. She turned to face the map and leaned forward on her arms. Griffyn let the silence linger, walking to Liam and helping himself to another drink as the the Lady of the city considered his offer. As he passed Hahnah, facing away from Sunderland, he eyed his friend meaningfully. Chin dipped, brow raised - alright?

"It will need to be a very convincing disguise."

He turned. The Lady had refolded her arms, and her scowl was like an etching in stone.

"But perhaps this will work after all. You could pose as a city official, sent to take down the details of a treaty or agreement. Hannah will be your command, technically, given our authority to speak for the city. You will need to make yourself as non-threatening as possible, but I imagine they will be unlikely to attack you. And you should only take weapons that can be easily concealed."

"I shan't need them," he replied, smiling through his anxiety. "Not if we are only to be making a swift escape in the worst case."

"Then go," the Lady decreed. "Go and make your play for peace. And then return to us. And Hannah..."

She approached the elf, hand in her pocket, and retrieved a metallic pin. Compared to the golden griffin it seemed almost plain, but the Omani sigil worked in gemstone on the tip was fine work. She handed it to her, face drawn.

"To show your authority."

Then she looked back to Griffyn and nodded. He met her gaze and bowed. It was time to make preparations.

Hahnah

 

[Hahnah]

It was only when Griffyn and Eloise went on to further discuss what was ahead, this plan that Griffyn espoused and Eloise thought to be foolish, that Hahnah started to truly grasp what was going to be upon her to do. She knew what she agreed to: talking. Talking instead of killing. But it was a manner of talking of which she, as the realization dawned brighter and worryingly brighter, knew she was woefully inexperienced. There was a special word for it in Common.

Negotiation.

Did her talk with Zael count, when she was kept from him and he was kept from her by the locked doors of Strathford's church? She did not think so. Once it was that Hahnah would simply kill her enemies and talk genially with those she trusted, but these Reds she did not know that she could trust nor were they strictly enemies. But weren't many of them human? Her skin went cold as she refused to answer that question or to entertain any of its implications. The elves. The captive elves. That was all that was important in this matter with the Reds--so she convinced herself.

But she wouldn't be alone. Griffyn insisted upon coming with her, to the human master's disapproval. And it was good that he would be with her. So far afield was she from the familiar that it was Griffyn who served as the only beacon by which she could orient herself and navigate home.

He passed by, Griffyn did. Caught her gaze with the unspoken question. Her answer was likewise unspoken, the slightly upward bend of her brows suggesting that larger uncertainty that she felt. She wished for it to go well, but...wishes were only granted by slim happenstance. Some of them were never granted. This she knew intimately.

And Hannah...

She turned her head, back in the present moment. Regarded Eloise, then glanced down to the pin with its ornate sigil. Curled her hand around it in a perfunctory manner when Eloise gave it to her and spoke of its use. Only a nod back to the human master.

With the dismissal, Hahnah turned and went to Griffyn with a beseeching look that said she wanted to speak with him in confidence. She lifted up her hand to touch the nape of his neck even if it was not needed and spoke close to his ear when she could.

Whispering, "I have not done anything like this before. I am..."

Kylindrielle. Elurdrith.

"...worried that I will fail."

Griffyn

 

[Griffyn]

Griffyn did not speak again until later that morning, sat outside the barracks that had been his home for the days before. In what felt like a previous life, an earlier age. There was a wooden bench against the outside wall of the blocky building with a low table made of the same rough carpentry, and with only a glance this space had been vacated for the two Commanders.

The soldiers smiled and bowed to an extent that made Griffyn visibly redden, they fetched plates of bread and cheese with mugs of water and a nearly indistinct ale, which all piled up before he and Hahnah like courses of a rich banquet. Not wishing to be rude, and simply unable to defeat the cravings of his stomach, Griffyn ate his fill. And only when he leaned back against the stone of the barracks, stomach filled and the men of the city temporarily mollified into absence, did his polite smile slowly fall, a soft sigh pass through his lips, and his eyes rest on those of his companion.

"Before I say anything," he said, "I want you to know that I would not have suggested this path if I was not entirely confident in our ability to emerge unscathed. There is no worst possible scenario that we cannot escape from. And I truly do not think such will be necessary."

He folded his arms. "So you may be worried, Hannah, but I am not. All we need is information. All we need is the second perspective. Then we leave."

He took a drink of water, leaning forwards on the table. In truth, he felt guilty. He had seen an opportunity to push the siege towards peace in a way that he himself was perfectly comfortable with, and hadn't hesitated to nominate Hahnah as a key piece of the plan. But in his time knowing her he had slowly come to see the truth of his new friend - or rather, one part of her truth. And it shamed him that he hadn't even realised that she would struggle here.

"What concerns you the most about this plan? Maybe I can dissuade your fears a little."

Hahnah

 

[Hahnah]

The smell of food made Hahnah's stomach growl with all the audible intensity of her reawakened appetite. It was with something of a wonder--part joyous, part incredulous--that she looked down at the food the soldiers served on the table outside the barracks. With Griffyn's presence and the food to sate her starving stomach, the very awareness of the human soldiers dropped away. She ate the bread and the cheese and the bread with the cheese and she drank from a mug of water and ate some more and then she reached for the ale. As soon as she the alcoholic beverage touched her tongue Hahnah whipped her head to one side and spat out the ale, coughing and sputtering and then looking at the mug and its contents with surprise, like it had grown teeth and bit her. She sheepishly put the mug of ale back and finished what was left of the food and drank some more water--washing the alarming and unexpected burn of that ale from her mouth.

With the soldiers gone, her hunger and thirst satisfied, a thought entered into her mind. How she had witnessed the soldiers bowing to Griffyn (this a gesture that she was close to full familiarity with) and how that had made his face redden. With anger? With embarrassment? It was not joy. He had said previously that he preferred not to have the attention, and yet the attention always seemed to find him regardless. It was--Hahnah dared to venture--as if his fellow humans were trying to elevate him into the hierarchy of cruelty that was their society, to make him accept his familial role as a human master like Eloise, and that he did not wish it to be so. It was...Hahnah dared venture further...as if he were shunning the sin common among the hearts of Humankind.

And he was the only one of Humankind that Hahnah had ever come to trust. Upon that trust now was balanced the fate of the captive elves, and perhaps the fate of Menura and the Reds alike.

He spoke. Hahnah with her statuesque posture and hands neatly folded in her lap listened. Information. All they needed was information. Whether the captive elves existed in truth or no, foremost.

What concerns you the most about this plan?

Her mouth pulled to one side for a second as she molded her concerns into a coherent thought to voice. "I am afraid that I will not know what to do at a crucial moment. I am afraid that I will be asked a question that I cannot answer, or that I will not understand something important. There is the chance that I may say something in such a way that provokes the Reds into aggression and hostility. My...greatest fear is that my unfamiliarity with this will cause the deaths of people who are good."

A small breeze of the day swept down the street and along the stone wall of the barracks, and the tips of Hahnah's dangling hair swung gently. There were problems that her sorcery--that slaying--could not solve. And this appeared to be one.

She smiled slightly, trying to dispel some of that heavy worry sitting on her chest. She said, "You are a ranger of talking, Griffyn. Conversations are to you a forest that you glide through with ease. I wish I could be as you are for this."

Griffyn

 

[Griffyn]

He shook his head sadly at the praise from Hahnah, looking down at the table.

"I... have become what I needed to be," he said slowly. "In that way, I suppose we are one and the same. These aren't lives we have chosen, we've just had to grow to accommodate them. My life was chosen by my family name. Yours, by your god."

He took the mug of ale in front of him and had a drink. He had been forced to conceal a grin when Hahnah had expressed her distaste for the rough alcohol, but he agreed that it was not to the standard that he would actively seek out. Still, it gave the edges of his senses a fuzziness that he found comforting, and it limited his mind to only considering what was right in front of him, the distracting periphery stripped away.

"How about this, then," he continued, putting the mug down on the tabletop. "I understand your fear that they will ask us a question that you will not know the answer to. In that instance, I will do my best to step in. It would even give credence to our story if we seem to be at odds with one another, with my stiff-backed clerical background and your free spirit."

He grinned. "Do feel free to lash out at me from time to time, it would no doubt do us some good. For that matter, how is your acting?"

Griffyn narrowed his eyes as a question came to him - was Hahnah capable of lying? He had certainly never felt deceived by her in their short time of knowing each other. But as a worrying image of Hahnah revealing everything to the Red commanders washed over him, he leaned forward on his elbows.

"Maybe we should practice."

Hahnah

 

[Hahnah]

I... have become what I needed to be.

Hahnah gave what could only be a reverential nod to this--the very sentiment she herself had expressed on occasion before. He furthermore took the words right out of her mouth about how in this way they were one and the same. She had not given much expansive thought to it, but perhaps there were a great many people who were driven by unpleasant necessity to be something that they otherwise would not have chosen to become. Idreth and his Fellowship came to mind.

Then, a slight quiver of disturbing uncertainty crossed her features when Griffyn put forth the idea that her life had been chosen by the Dying God. A momentary dip of her eyes. It implied that...much like how she believed the gods of Humankind to be...that the Dying God was also cruel. That He had either allowed for or purposefully engineered the deaths of Kylindrielle and Elurdrith to put her onto this path.

Griffyn continued, and Hahnah was all too eager to discard the disquieting idea from the forefront of mind. Her eyes flicked back up as if nothing had been the matter.

Encouraging, that she did not need to carry all the weight of this delicate situation herself. She did not know what happened to Griffyn's back (an injury that she had not seen?) but there was nevertheless difference enough to make whatever story they were going to concoct more believable. Hahnah did balk a little at the suggestion to lash out at him from time to time--yet another surprising reaction, each new one added into the greater collection of them milder than the last. Lashing out was reserved for her enemies. The way she had spoken with Zael and Reginald was far different than the way she had spoken with Alden, Pretty Boy (before), and Griffyn. But she could try. For the sake of Elvenkind, she could try.

How is your acting.

She brightened at this, her shoulders rising with a kind of pride. "My acting is forthright. I commit to whatever action I feel is good in my heart and I therefore see it done with a clear conscience. It was Elurdrith who taught me this proper way of being in the world."

Somehow, she figured that this was...maybe not the answer he was looking for, and her smile twitched in mild embarrassment. A sheepish flick of her eyes off to one side for a second's worth of consideration, and then back to him.

"Yes. I think we should practice."

Griffyn

 

[Griffyn]

He nodded, his brow twisted in awkward uncertainty at her words.

"Y-Yes, clearly that would be best."

He leaned back again, eyes moving about as he sought inspiration for the game. And game it was, he realised with a hint of a smile. Though the importance of their task was a serious matter, he couldn't help but remember nights out in Alliria with his friends, pretending to be foreign princes to amaze the parishioners of the ale houses into granting them free drinks, concocting grand tales of far-off conquests and wild lands to dazzle and excite. Not that the stories had ever had the desired effect, especially as the night grew longer and their vision hazier.

Still, he smirked as the ideas came to him. He was looking forward to seeing how his friend would fare.

"Alright, imagine this," he said. "You need to try and convince me that you are a princess, some royalty from a distant nation, and I am going to ask you questions to see if I believe you. Does that make sense? Try not to say anything true, and just make up any facts you don't have to hand."

He squared his shoulders as though throwing on a mantle as he put himself into a character's mindset and prepared to act. "And try to convince me with your movements, too," he added. "People expect princesses to be haughty and arrogant, so you should play to that. Alright, ready?"

Griffyn made his voice gravelly and rough, a comical exaggeration of the bartenders he had also attempted to convince in his recent youth. He also twisted his mouth into an angular shape and puffed out his chest for good measure.

"Well then, miss," he began in his new guise. "Who might you be?"

Hahnah

 

[Hahnah]

Imagine this.

And so Hahnah tried to imagine, the look of determined effort coming over her face and her arms stiffening. A princess. Immediately she was at a loss, but the clarification of "royalty" helped--alien as the idea was to her, she had come to understand the stratification of societies that were human and elven alike. What were nations? Distant. Somehow distant. Like the lands of the Allir Reach were distant from Falwood. Alright. Don't worry about saying anything true. She could do that. She lied when necessary--as she had when speaking previously of the other Griffin, saying that he was a friend when in truth he was the opposite. This necessity had only increased since walking among them.

Hahnah mimicked the squaring of Griffyn's shoulders, doing the same motion with her own, thinking it might help. Convince him with her movements. Haughty. Arrogant. Like humans. Some humans. She would not accuse Griffyn of being either. Anirians were like that. Maybe she could pretend to be like them? As distasteful as it was.

Alright, ready?

Hahnah's brow jumped up when Griffyn seemed to become a different person before her eyes. A different person in the same body. And for that initial moment and even the moment following, she was stunned into inaction.

What broke her out of it was a sudden connection she made. A princess. Like...like the heiress to House Black in that book that had captivated her! The Heiress was much like herself and Griffyn, having to become what she needed to be, even though it was clear that she did not want to do so. She was one way when she was by herself or among close friends in private, and another way when around other humans in public, the haughty and arrogant princess that Griffyn had described because she needed to "appear strong and capable." Why not try to emulate the Heiress in those public moments in the book? Hahnah could emulate others well; she had with her caretakers, after all.

Channeling what she knew of the Heiress from her reading, Hahnah assumed the role. She stood up from the bench with a sudden rapidity, slammed her hands onto her hips, glowered down at Griffyn after lifting her chin and with a look of certain annoyance and hint of either disdain or outright disgust.

And she took on the speech patterns of the Heiress, declaring in a raised voice, "Who might I be? Hmph! I think I was mistaken to even give you common rubes the benefit of assuming you could recognize your betters when you see them! I am the Princess Black, of House Black--and of which you are thoroughly unfamiliar. You will now have the privilege of being educated by me, so listen well, rube: I am from--"

(what were nations, what were nations, just say something)

"--Falwood and I have come to this sour land to discuss a matter you needn't be privy to. Where is your royalty? At least with them my company will be properly received."

The manner of speaking felt rough and coarse on her tongue, grating against her true self and her natural mannerisms, but she could only hope that she was pretending well enough in this practice role.

Griffyn

 

[Griffyn]

"Uh..." Griffyn faltered against the flurry of unfamiliar words from Hahnah's lips. He sat back slowly and took in this person who he was meeting for the first time, awash with pride that she had picked it all up so qui-...

"Wait, did you say House Black?" he asked suddenly. "As in The Romance of House Black?"

He remembered the night before, the written words they had shared, the soft red cover of the book they had used. Hahnah had clearly been reading it in her spare time, which surprised him. First, that the tale of feminine self-discovery in the petal-lined streets of a make-believe ivory city, widely declared as needlessly derivative by its critics, would appeal to the young ranger. But also, he realised with shame, he was surprised she had been able to read the book at all. Clearly her ability was improving, or perhaps her ability to extrapolate from the parts of the book she was able to decipher was just better than he had realised.

Regardless, he smiled. Though he hoped she wouldn't rely on popular culture too much with her acting (he wasn't certain if House Black had made it into an Elvish translation, but it paid to play it safe), he was proud.

"Sorry!" he said, shaking his head. "We're doing a scene, aren't we?"

Clearing his throat, Griffyn returned to his character.

"A princess, is it? Very impressive, miss. Why don't you fill me in on what you little country is famous for, little princess, and why you aren't dressed for the ball like you lot always seem to be?"

Hahnah

 

[Hahnah]

Hahnah's cheeks flushed brilliantly red when Griffyn--the real Griffyn, not the rougher character he had become for the practice--spoke the title of the book she had been reading. H-How did he know? Had he read the book too? Had he read the whole thing and knew what happened at the end? She had not gotten that far--but that was all besides the point. He had seen right through her pretending. That was not good. Though it was true that she would not be emulating the Heiress (not so exactly) when they approached the Reds to negotiate, still, getting this right was to Hahnah as difficult as fighting multiple armored men. It was a battle of words and wit instead of sorcery and strategy.

"Yes. Yes, it is from The Romance of House Black," she said in a quiet, whispering, near confessional tone, and somehow her face got even more red. She added quickly, "And I do not think that you are a rube, Griffyn."

She wasn't even quite sure what a rube was supposed to be, but it had been delivered in an unpleasant way by the Heiress in the writing of the book and it felt the same when she said it in her practice--despite it all being just that, practice and pretense.

Griffyn cleared his throat, and it was as if this clearing had summoned the rough character he was assuming. Hahnah, as well, got herself back into the mindset of the Heiress.

"A silly question from a silly man," she said. "Firstly, I am dressed as is comfortable for travel. Not that it is any of your concern." She lifted a hand from her hip and twirled it in a manner described in the book; hopefully doing it right and communicating a disdain for wasting time, and implying in that haughty way that this very conversation was doing just that. "Rubes will be rubes. Well, Falwood is neither little nor is it a country. It is big and it is a forest and you ought to know that. The greatest rangers the world has ever known all hail from Falwood, and I will not entertain opinions to the contrary."

(what else could she say? what else did humans care about? make something up)

"And we have negotiated peace with Vel Anir after many years of war. Shocking, I know, but while we are strong we are also benevolent. Our mercy is as famous as our strength. Perhaps that satisfies you. If not, then may your tears water the ground to grow many flowers. Hmph."

Griffyn

 

[Griffyn]

"Whatever you say, miss," Griffyn retorted, leaning back with a disbelieving raise of the eyebrow and waving his hand dismissively. "Can't say I've ever heard of any princesses coming out of Falwood, and I get all kinds'a tales in here. So go on then..."

He raised three fingers. "Name three major exports of your little kingdom. If you're family's so well to do, they must sell off some good stuff, eh?"

He smirked up at her. It was part of the character, but he couldn't hide that he was enjoying himself.

Over Hahnah's shoulder, a pair of men in armour paused in their lumbering patrol to glance over at the pair with wide eyes. It had been clear since this morning that the fighting men of the city wanted to know all they could about their new commander and his mysterious elven associate, and this little show would undoubtedly add some contrary rumours to the mill. He anticipated Hahnah would receive a courtly bow before the day was out.

Meanwhile, over on his left, he spied Rych. The gangly Aniri spearman had a long cloth tossed over one shoulder, and a pair of light shears in one hand. He halted as he saw the confrontation playing out at the table, and from a distance cast Griffyn a questioning shrug. Griffyn waved one finger at him - not yet - and sighed. Maybe if he could stretch this game out a little longer he wouldn't have to go through with that particular part of the plan.

Hahnah

 

[Hahnah]

Exports.

What were exports?

This was what Hahnah feared. The word or the phrase or the concept that she would not be familiar with, that would--as it was doing now--give her pause and therefore arouse suspicions while she thought. She felt as though it was the dark of night all around her, that she couldn't see anything of her surroundings yet knew there were eyes watching, and the moon high in the sky was shining down brightly and solely upon her. Exposing her. Leaving her vulnerable. Here was a fright that was as unique as it was powerful. Like the very first time since the death of her caretakers that she dared venture into a settlement.

Yet.

She had overcome that fear. Was she not now in the heart of a settlement, walking among them, with that old fear blunted almost to nothing? She could overcome this. She could try.

Exports. He said that exports were things that were sold--that concept she was familiar with. Good stuff. What things did humans value? What material things? Gold, obviously, for the making of their coins which they used for exchange. Iron; iron for their weapons and their armor. Crops too; humans cleared forests and made flat the land such that they could plant what they wished, all to feed themselves without hunting or foraging.

After that hitch of hesitation, Hahnah smoothed her way back into the role. "You dare question the truthfulness of what I have said? If you are a representative of the hospitality I am to expect here in this land, then my future shall be woeful until I may yet depart. Very well, rube. Gold, iron, and--"

(maybe a specific crop that they grew)

"--grapes. Does that satisfy your nosy curiosity? It had better, for it is not I who engages in said selling of these exports. There are people beneath me who attend to that."

She crossed her arms for effect. The Heiress Black had done that several times in order to punctuate what she had said.

Griffyn

 

[Griffyn]

Griffyn raised his brows with a wry smile.

"Must be harding getting all those rocks out of the ground in the middle of a forest like Falwood," he commented. It felt a little harsh, but he wanted to see how far she could stretch this mask of hers, and he couldn't say for certain that she would not be tested like this once the game began in earnest.

"Just one last question then, miss, and I'll let you get on your way. Clearly you come from a rich sort, and you obviously feel that I'm not treating you as honourably as you'd like. I bet you have some man awaiting your hand back home, am I wrong? Daddy marrying you off to some foreign lad?"

Such was the well-worn story, after all. Even Griffyn knew something of this lifestyle, of marriage as a requirement for status rather than for love. His own choice of partner would of course need to be approved by his family. And someone like Hahnah, he mused, would never make the cut. His mind wandered once again to the scratched face of the girl from Dornoch, like him a slave to her own pedigree, whose life he had complicated. She his family would approve in an instant. However, after all they had been through, Griffyn felt it would be best for her if she never had to see him again. His brow tightened, and for a moment his concentration was lost.

Hahnah

 

[Hahnah]

Hahnah didn't know how hard or not such a task would be. It did not matter. All she needed to do was to commit to what it was that she was saying. To emulate the Heiress to the point where her own confidence was enough to convince her even though she knew for a certain fact that she knew not said difficulty nor what exports were. Convince herself, Griffyn (or the character he was assuming, this matter of pretend was somewhat puzzling in that regard), and maybe as well the human soldiers she could hear faintly behind her.

One last question...

She was, admittedly, relieved. The practice was taxing in its unnatural character, how she had to force herself to be someone who she was not. Though the real negotiation promised to be even more so, and with the added weight of lives.

Hahnah did not hesitate this time. She had to commit. To be convincing. To say what needed to be said.

"You are wrong," she said. "There are no men awaiting either of my hands, and see here, rube, both of them are still well enough attached." She held up and shook both of her hands. "As for the affairs of my father, no, he is doing no such thing. Not to some foreign lad, I ought say. A prince. I met him at an eve's gala. Do not bother asking what that is, I am certain you could not even spell it if asked. Now, goodbye--" she didn't know what to call Griffyn's assumed character, "--You."

Hahnah let out a breath, her shoulders dropping and her chin dipping down. It was...exhausting. Exhausting in the same way that attempting to learn how to read had been back before her transformation, before she gained more directly such knowledge from Zael.

And she lifted her eyes, looking to Griffyn. Wondering if the practice had gone well. Or not.

Griffyn

 

[Griffyn]

Griffyn sat back and gave a hearty, mystified round of applause as Hahnah took her seat.

"Bravo!" he said with a wide smile. "Very good, Hannah! I'll be honest, I wasn't sure how you would get on with that. But clearly you're a natural!"

He turned and waved to Rych, who grinned as he approached. Around him, the small group of soldiers who had stopped to watch the animated discourse between their commanders were slowly clapping along with Griffyn, though from their expressions it was clear they didn't know why.

"Now, I feel I should point something out," he continued, shifting his posture on the bench so that Rych could pull a cloth about his shoulders. "Your Heiress Black isn't going to work with the Reds, not when we want them on our side. In fact, if we are going to be speaking with elven community leaders, the uptight human noble is the last character we want to bring with us. Instead of putting on a character, you will want to be much more like your normal, charming self. And now we both know that you can fill any gaps in our shared understanding with a bit of dramatic bluffing without issue."

Rych ran a damp cloth across Griffyn's hair as he talked, making it sleek and long. The shears he held tenatively in one hand, mouth twisted, clearly ill at ease with his task.

"We do need to be clear on our mission, however. We aren't going to want to goad them into action against the city, so it would be a mistake to confirm their suspicions about..."

He paused, eyes flicking to one side.

"...about what they would gain by continuing this siege. All we need is information, preferably a reason why they believe what they do. Any details at all about the situation will help us bring this to an end. Following that, we should be looking to come to an agreement that will keep them from assaulting the walls again, if only for a short while. Anything reason at all will do. We just need to stall for time."

With a metallic snip, the first of Griffyn's locks fell to the dusty floor.

"Does that sound about right?"

Hahnah

 

[Hahnah]

The applause she did not expect. Not from Griffyn nor from the soldiers, her gaze of mild surprise traveling from one to the other and back. She sat with her back straight, one hand atop the other down in her lap. A natural, he had said. She had felt the opposite of her pretending, in speaking and acting in ways to which she was not accustomed. But it was a compliment nonetheless, especially in light of what was ahead.

Your Heiress Black isn't going to work with the Reds.

Hahnah nodded deeply in agreement to this. Griffyn had seen through it, recognized in a near instant the character she was emulating. She did not want to pretend at being a princess again. Even the Heiress in the story did not like the way she had to act when she had to walk out in public. It was...oh...something like Hahnah...walking out in public...the public of a settlement...walking among them. Her pretense was not as dramatic as the Heiress's own, but Hahnah had changed her ways as necessary in order to be a certain way while in certain places. She...was quite like the Heiress in that regard. More than she had originally thought.

Hahnah eyed the shears in Rych's hand with a defensive apprehension, as if the tool were a sword which he might drag across Griffyn's neck. Her muscles tensed ever so slightly.

We do need to be clear on our mission...

Eyes back to Griffyn, and she relaxed that slight tension. Her shoulders hitched mildly with that first snip of Griffyn's hair, but she did not summon her sorcery against Rych.

"I understand," she said. "We need information. We need to convince the Reds to end the siege if we can, and make an agreement that stalls for time if we cannot."

She looked away. Down and away. "But...if there are elves..."

She wanted to complete her sentence. To be able to finish by saying, I will do anything to free them. But she could not. And she need not examine her thoughts to know why she could not say this. Because her belief in the absolute goodness of Elvenkind, the absence of profaning sin in their hearts, had been damaged, and it was only now in this small moment that she noticed the cracks that had been present for a long time. And she knew that she was not prepared to do anything to free them. Not like she would have been before.

Hahnah's lips parted. Pressed together again, and then her brow furrowed in consideration. A heavy look came over her features and she looked back up to Griffyn, taking little notice now of Rych and his shears and his cutting of Griffyn's hair. Her focus was narrow.

"Griffyn," she said. "Have you ever felt so strongly in your heart that what you have been doing is good, but still...somehow...you were unsure?"

Griffyn

 

[Griffyn]

Griffyn's head felt light as Rych cut close to the scalp. Though he did not consider himself a vain man, the sacrifice of his hair was a sad one. It would take time to grow back, time in which he would have to become accustomed to a new, cropped version of himself. At a time when he knew so little about himself as it was. Lifting a bucket of warm water onto the table, Rych produced a razor from his belt and began to shave.

"I understand..." Griffyn said quietly at Hahnah's mention of the elves. "We know so little. When we know more, the path will present itself to us, I hope."

He looked away. Hahnah was sacrificing too, paying a price of patience. And her cost was much higher than a few strands of hair. Once again, Griffyn was reminded of the relative comfort that he experienced simply by being him - educated, richly dressed, well-connected. What felt like a cost to him was no cost at all to someone like her. In a way, he hoped there were elves sealed in secret chambers beneath the Sunderlands' manor. Then he would have a chance to truly test the resolve he was so quick to believe in.

Hahnah's question caught Griffyn by surprise. Rych flinched as he shifted his face to look towards her.

"Have I ever had doubts about my actions, do you mean?" he asked. Of course, she was following the messages of her secretive god. Though no theologian, Griffyn had heard that holy quests were fraught with their own issues and concerns, especially if god was not forthcoming with updates.

"I don't... think I have ever felt that way," he admitted. "The most uncertain thing I have ever done is to leave my home to come here. I'd be lying if I said I was certain that I was doing the right thing each day since my departure, but..."

But he could just go home, if he wanted. His father had made it very clear that he would not suffer any shame if he decided to end his year early. So why was he still here? Only because he didn't feel that he had suffered enough to warrant anything else, he supposed.

"I think... if what you are doing is truly not good..." he continued hesitantly, "then you would know it. I feel that we would be able to tell. Our hearts are... are quite good at telling the difference between good and evil. Or so I've always thought."

Hahnah

 

[Hahnah]

Doubt.

That was the word. One that she knew, yes, but one that she had so very seldomly thought about that it was as close to unfamiliar as it could be without actually being so. Hahnah's was a world that was full of certainty. Sure was she that those whom she could trust could be trusted utterly, that the Dying God loved her, that humans were people possessed unerringly of sin and elves unerringly of virtue. It had been that way up until the moment she was given her new appearance and her new bidding. Then the cracks in that certainty, whether she noticed them or not, had started to form.

Doubt. So this is what it felt like.

Griffyn had his. Leaving his home of Alliria, journeying out into the world and coming eventually to Menura and unwittingly into this siege. He did not know if he was doing the right thing each day, and Hahnah--more and more--had begun to feel much the same way. And he spoke of the hearts of Hahnah and himself and all others, how each could discern good from evil.

Hahnah smiled at this, her cheeks rising slightly. "I believe that too, Griffyn. I believe that more than anything."

Her eyes trailed in the whimsical way of recalling vividly a memory. "I have put myself in danger to save elves before, and it felt good."

I have slain many humans, many of whom were without weapons and many of whom cowered, and this too felt good.

"When I came to help you yesterday night, when those Reds were attacking you, it felt good."

When I with Pretty Boy killed the dark-skinned elf, the dwarf, and the komodi--those hunters with the other Griffin--this too felt good.

She looked back to Griffyn. Her smile brighter and cheeks warm with color. "I feel that what we are about to do is good. I feel that it is the highest good that we could do. My heart tells me it is so."

Once I thought that there was no higher good than cleansing the profane, the sinful--Humankind. But now...in that...I feel doubt.

Because I have met you.

"Thank you, Griffyn."

Griffyn

 

[Griffyn]

Griffyn watched his friend, her sudden and uncharacteristic animation and warmth seeping into him, resonating. He remembered meeting her for the first time, so recent and yet so nostalgic. Kneeling on the floor of the barracks and weeping light and fragile tears as she ate. And now this. Words of thanks, a hopeful light in her pale eyes.

And yet... And yet, something about her words disturbed him. It was the same feeling that he got when he considered her true nature, and when her steely resolve came through on the eve of a fight, or when the elves in the city were mentioned. It felt good, she said. But what she was talking about was... bloodshed. She took life so easily, so... reverently. Griffyn had lived his life avoiding violence, abhorring murder - his bile still rose as he remembered the death of the elven soldier at his hand the night before. But to Hahnah death, in some circumstances, was to be sought and pursued.

Thank you, Griffyn.

All he could do was look away. Words that should have encouraged him only made him anxious. The void between them was still vast, and though it shrank with each passing hour there was still so much of Hahnah that he did not understand. He felt as if he balanced with her on a precipice, holding her up. And his actions could either elevate her further towards peace - peace as he saw it, at least - or cause her to fall deeper into darkness.

"There we are, sir! Fresh as a newborn!"

He blinked at Rych's words, coming forth as though from slumber, before reaching up and feeling his cheeks. Smooth indeed. He felt young and limber. He reached up to his hair as Rych pulled the cloth from his shoulders, showering the ground with dark strands of hair. So short. He felt like a priest. He didn't feel very much like himself at all.

"Thanks, Rych," he said, tone heavy. "This is perfect. Now, remember what I said. Best nobody knows why I've done this. If anyone asks, I just fancied it like this. That alright?"

Rych nodded severely. "Say no more, Commander. I know how to be trustworthy to them who deserve it."

Griffyn patted the man's shoulder as he rose. With a quizzical glance he then took the sheet from the soldier's hands, dusting it off with a couple of shakes, and wrapped it around his shoulders like a cloak. Not bad. The long, tan fabric would help hide some of his build, and he could make up the difference with some tactical slouching.

He checked his belongings. His sword and wand were back at the house. All he had in his satchel was his journal and a quill set. Writing things down felt like a government clerk sort of thing to do, and it would help mask him from unwanted attention if he needed to do such. Even with his blood heavy with the dim resonance of magic, he felt naked. Still...

"Ready?" he asked Hahnah, steeling himself.

Hahnah