Fable - Ask No Trouble

[Olvir]

Olvir's chest rose and fell, adrenaline still coursing through his veins as Ivan's quip lingered in the air. He gave a bitter laugh. "Keep this name shit up and I'm going to have you banished."

He joked, thought not quite able to keep his mind off from the bolt which now sat sunken into his shoulder.

Through the years he had suffered through more than a dozen assassination attempts, but he was ashamed to say that this had been the closest of them all. Never before had one of his foes managed to strike him so close. He'd let his guard down, out here, and now he felt a fool.

Fingers tightened slightly on the hilt of his sword.

"I dont see..." A hiss pulled through his teeth as he half turned to regard the assassin. "Get this fucking thing out of me first."

Ollie swore. "I'll inspect the bastard after, yeah?"

He was certainly no stranger to people trying to kill him. Before the Revolution that had practically been the standard, but right now all he could think about was the pain lancing through his shoulder, and what he could do to ease it.

 

[Ivan Skender]

At Olvir's invitation he closed the distance to his friend.

- "Don't worry, I'll be gentle." - He said, his tone so soft, and so sweet, he genuinely surprised himself with how charming he sounded. With a fluid swipe, he embraced the young noble, wrapping his arm around his waist, and pulled him so close the he could feel the heat emanating from the other's body.

His arm rose from Weiroon's waist, and his hand came to rest softly on Ollie's chest. Ivan gave it a light squeeze, as his ice-grey gaze met Ollie's almond one in a such passionately intense stare that it could almost seem as though time itself had stopped around them with how long that split-second seemed to last for him.

Undeterred, he reminded himself of one of the most important lessons he'd learned at the Academy:

That when it came to removing projectiles from flesh, the anxiety of the pain hurt almost as badly as the pain itself; and that anxious patients made for squirmy ones as well. The trick? Never let the fuckers know what was coming.

That was why, as he locked eyes with Weiroon, his grasp on Ollie's chest rose to his shoulder and immediately tensed, holding the other noble in place, as with his other hand he ripped the arrow from Ollie's shoulder with an intensity and roughness that were very much contrary to the sweet undertones he'd spoken with just a few seconds ago.

With the arrow out of his comrade's flesh, he then proceeded to bandage the wound with his makeshift bandages in a manner - yet again - much coarser and rougher than what his previous demeanour could have ever suggested. He tied the bandages tightly and strongly, before unceremoniously walking away from his friend and halting before the corpse of the crossbowman.

- "Any ideas?" - He asked, pointing with his chin to the corpse, as he let Ollie recover from the shock of having the bolt removed in such a half-hazard manner.​

 

[Olvir]

"I told you, I'm betrothed." Ollie said in Jest as Ivan moved over towards him to remove the arrow. Bracing himself as he continued to speak and joke with the other man. "This is a little close for comf-"

Before he could finish his taunt, Ivan ripped the bolt free.

His eyes popped almost immediately, every nerve in that part of his body letting out a scream which seemed to echo through the rest of him. "KRESS-FUCK-SHIT-KRESS!"

Ollie said, fingers biting down into his palms as Ivan quickly began to bandage the now bleeding wound. The nobles eyes darting to the quill that the Initiate had taken out, noting that it's head was decorated with several very bent barbs.

That's why it hurt more than usual. Ollie told himself, probably trying to convince his inner word that he wasn't a complete pansy.

A second later his gaze panned to the dead assassin.

"Not sure." He admitted. "Assassination attempts aren't exactly new."

The game of Houses had been a complicated and deadly thing. "But, I doubt it's one of the other Houses."

Not that saying as such narrowed the playing field much. There were still a dozen entities that wanted to hurt House Weiroon, half that number again other folk who would love to see Ollie dead. He glanced over at Ivan as he finished tying the bandage, shrugging and beginning to move over towards the corpse. "Lets see if he has any identifiers."

That was where his usual bodyguard, Trik, would start.

 

[Ivan Skender]

He squatted over the corpse of the crossbowman, and peered over the deceased.

No symbols, nor any obvious giveaways that he could see, though in all honesty he still had his attention divided between the prostrated corpse on the floor before him, and the semi-barricaded door beyond, as he still fully expected a possible back-up to the assassin to materialise. It was for the latter reason, that it took him a while to notice something that would otherwise have been obvious. Something so overt it was nearly covert, so to speak.

- "He's wearing armor." - He said matter-of-factly. - "Looks like good quality plate too." -

Why would any would-be employer bother to arm an assassin crossbowman with fine armor? Not only was it unnecessary, but also it was expensive.

- "If the other Houses did not do it..." - He mused out loud. - "Do you have any other wealthy competitor here that would want you dead?" -

It was then that his mind was pulled to that one conversation he'd had with Ollie during their first day in Sheketh:

"Tyr's a good bet, and I can do some business while there."

His eyes narrowed.

- "What business were you planning on doing here?" -​

 

[Olvir]

"Business!" Ollie countered drunkenly.

Nothing nefarious, most of this trip was supposed to be finding out about his damn sword! He'd thought maybe he could get a trade deal going. Some Tyrian salt spice shipped over to Vel Anir or something of the sort.

"This guy isn't here to kill me for some stupid salt spice." Ollie said, still drunken and presuming that Ivan had just read his thoughts. "Tyr is pretty far from home, I don't think even our direct competitors do business out here."

Burk & Burk traded with Mallian, he knew, and Yedrins Trading Company had something with the Nordenfiir, but no one did anything with Tyr. Not that he knew of. The distance made trade difficult, and the harsh seas even more so. Despite the value that could be found here, many Anirians simply felt there was easier money to be made elsewhere.

Slowly, carefully, Ollie stumbled over towards the corpse. Noting the fine armor and weapons, a small frown touched his lips.

He reached down, pulling the assassin's mask down from his face. Almost immediately the young nobles head quirked. "I think…"

Ollie frowned, trying to remember, glancing up at Ivan.

"I think I know this guy." But from where? His face was so familiar Ollie knew he couldn't have been mistaken. He combed his memories, running through them one by one until suddenly one snapped I to place. "Oh fuck."

As the realization hit him, Ollie nearly fell over. "He's my cousin's bodyguard."

One of them, anyway.

 

[Ivan Skender]

- "What?!" - His voice echoed through the empty stone walls of the bathhouse, having come out a bit louder than he'd anticipated due in no small part to his still present drunkenness.

He reminded himself of his earlier chat with Ollie, where the other Anirian had told him about the intricacies of Great House politics, and about how assassinations had been common before the Revolution.

- "For fuck's sake, I thought you lot had stopped with the kin-slaying." - He shook his head, as if that would dissipate the last vestiges of inebriation that still clouded his mind.

Ivan tried to assess the situation: They were far from home, had just been accosted by at least one assassin, and could be further harassed as they headed to Tyr. While he pondered whether heading to Tyr would even be safe anymore, he soon reached the conclusion that probably, with the ogre guard on duty, Tyr would be safer than even Vel Anir at this point.

He also quickly ruled out the possibility of turning back. If the assassins had managed to track them so far as Ostgoth, then surely they'd know the way to the village, and hence could be expecting them on the mountain passes they'd spent the last week or so trekking through.

He figured the best way to go would be to continue to Tyr, after all. But first:

- "We need to get you out of here." - He said. - "Get that wound looked at." - He glanced again at the wooden door, still expecting a loud bang to erupt at any moment.

- "After that, we move quickly onward to Tyr. You should be safe there." - ​

 

[Olvir]

"It's slowed down." Ollie slurred in retort to Ivan. "But happens every now and again. Less about power now and more about money here."

A frown touched Ollie's face, remembering his cousins. "I guess those two are the same thing if you think about it, in some ways."

The words played through his head, and as he heard them Ollie realized that he was still drunk. Even getting shot with a crossbow bolt wasn't quite sobering enough to clear his head completely. A long breath dragged into his lungs, and slowly he stood up.

Glancing down at the corpse his head tipped in a nod. "Aye."

He said in regards to Ivan's suggestions. Staying here wasn't a choice anymore, which meant no comfortable feather bed, but before they raced out of the little village it would be best to get his shoulder looked at by a proper doctor, or at least a wise woman.

"Least it's my off-hand." Ollie remarked to himself, shaking his head at the body before he began to stumble back towards Ivan.

"You know, the worst part is, killing me won't even get them anything." He said with a sigh. "I'm not even inline for succession."

Olvir muttered to himself,

 

[Ivan Skender]

- "Well," - He said, as he stepped away from the corpse, and towards the pool where the two of them had left their clothes. - "we can figure their motives later." - Probably when their minds were not as clouded with alcohol as they were now. - "For the moment let's just focus on getting out of here." -

With a fluid movement, he kicked his pants into the air, catching them again before they fell into the ground. Then, with a not-so-fluid movement, he tried to put them on again, only to stumble back and forth as he lost his footing continuously.

"Kress, maybe I'm still not that sober." - A thought which was not, needless to say, shared with his companion.

When he - at last - managed to put on his pants, he walked to the door. With the tattered remnants of his shirt currently serving as bandages for Ollie, he was fully naked from the waist up, a fact he didn't seem to be bothered by as he walked up to the exit. After hesitating for a second or two, he finally moved his make-shift barricade of piled-up basins and prepared to get out.

He opened the door with a louder 'bang' than he'd anticipated, and then immediately hid behind the threshold of the entrance, still somewhat expecting a hail of arrows to come scurrying towards him as soon as the door opened.

None did.

Cautiously still, he stepped onto the corridor. It seemed to be empty.

- "Come on Weiroon." - He walked briefly back into the bathhouse. Glancing over the basins, he saw a quirky one made of metal that looked more like a cook's pan that had somehow been mistaken for a bath basin. He picked it up and handed it to Ollie.

- "Hold this in front of your chest. We don't want those pretty abs getting ruined by an arrow, now do we?" -​

 

[Olvir]

Ollie, like a smart person, put his pants on while sitting on the ground. It seemed expedient, and also he was pretty sure he needed the time to simply stabilize himself. He took deep breaths as he shoved each leg into his trousers, focusing himself before he pulled the button into place and then slowly, very slowly, picked himself up off the ground.

A loud scratch of metal against stone echoed out as the young noble scooped up his sword, the blade leaving a very long and surprisingly deep cut within the rock.

He too, left his shirt behind, mostly because his shoulder had already ached from just dressing his lower half. The top seemed like an utter nightmare. My scabbard.

The sword helpfully reminded Ollie, and the noble stumbled to the left.

With just a few shaky strides he retrieved the sheath of his sword. Scooping it up though noticeably not slipping the blade inside. He walked over towards Ivan as the Initiate called, his already full hands half sticking out as the boy shoved a wash pan in his hand.

"What?" He asked, sending the basin clattering to the ground with the loud sound of metal crashing against stone. "How am I supposed to use a sword if I'm holding that?"

Ollie demanded.,

 

[Ivan Skender]

- "You're not." - He replied. - "You are to stand back, and let me do the fighting." - For Ivan, their situation was pretty clear. Though he had no doubts about Ollie's comradeship, the truth was that they were not equals in this: After all, if Olvir came back without him, it would have no impact whatsoever, except for a few annoyed grumbles at the Academy. If he came back without Weiroon though... well, then he had no doubts that all hell would break loose, right before Weiroon senior chopped his balls off and served them to him for dinner.

As such, in a situation such as this, he preferred to have Ollie safely out of the way while he did all the fighting.

- "Plus, what are you going to do with a sword anyways? We're in closed quarters, you're still drunk, and if another crossbowman shows up? Good luck trying to reach him with a sword." -

He stepped outside the bathhouse and glanced up and down the corridor. Still empty. He motioned Ollie to follow.

The hallway was too dark to properly notice, but as he advanced, Ivan projected a dark aura around his hands. With each step it grew more perceptible, making the already gloomy corridor even more shadowy, as his magic stood fully at-the-ready to corrode any intruder into non-existence.​

 

[Olvir]

"Whaaaat?!" Olvir complained obstinately to his companion. His words sounding half like a complaint and half like an indignant soldier who didn't quite understand his orders.

Or simply didn't want to follow them.

"But I'm one of the best Swordsmen in Vel Anir!" A statement which was, shockingly, true. He had just come off a string of tournament placings, all within the top five. Though perhaps a feat he was not capable of when he was drunk.

Though he wasn't the best, he was most certainly more than capable of finding his place being close. "I could knock a bolt out of the air."

He argued with Ivan as he continued to stumble forward through the hall. Having cleared not picked up the wash basin.

"Trussst me." Ollie slurred. "I'm as quick as a cat."

The Noble said, forgetting that even cats had difficulty dodging crossbow bolts.

 

[Ivan Skender]

A loud sigh escaped his lips, at his friend's drunken obstinance. Kress, was that how it felt to be the most sober one?

He was about to reply to Ollie, when suddenly one of the doors that led to the hallway burst open. Immediately, his instincts kicked-in, and no sooner had that door been flung open, than he was already moving in to attack it, his magic materialising into a multi-pronged current of darkness that scurried forth at once, as it strove to meet its new target.

This attack though, was interrupted at the last moment when he realized that this was not an assailant, but rather a bath-goer who had been unfortunate enough to walk into the wrong place, at the wrong time. The poor woman, being greeted with a hostile display of shadowy, dark magic coming to shred her to pieces, started screaming in panic at the top of her lungs, scurrying down the hallway as the initiate's magical attack receded.

Shaking his head, as he watched the woman run away from him, Ivan then noticed she hadn't been alone. Inside the room the door let into, a couple of young women had been left behind. While at first bewildered by the surprising turn of events, their demeanor had changed as soon as they'd seen the two shirtless, athletic Anirians making their way down the hall, letting out a few - rather stereotypical - giggles as their companion fled through the bathhouse.

Ivan furrowed his brow, looking intently at the two girls, as they waved at them from the side of yet another turquoise pool. Then, as Ollie came closer to him, the initiate roughly forced the noble into the room, after which - when they came within range of the pool - he forced his cat-reflex-boasting friend's head into the water.

- "Hi." - He said to the girls, offering them the most charming smile he could muster, all the while he shoved Ollie's head in-and-out of the water in an effort to sober him up. - "I'm Ivan, nice to meet you." - ​

 

[Olvir]

"Would...you...stop..." Ollie talked as Ivan pushed his head under water. Every preceding trip into the water sobering him a little more. His sword comically flailing at his side as he still gripped it tight. The blade splashing until he finally let it go.

Dropping it to reach out and grab Ivan's head, sending it sinking other. "That!"

The Noble shouted with a loud burst of laughter, one which was immediately joined by the group of girls sitting on the other side of the pool.

A gaggle whom Ollie had only just noticed.

"Oh." He said, his arm almost immediately relaxing as his friend was temporarily forgotten about. The barest flicker of inebriation still lingered over him, and Ollie offered the group of women a wide smile. Bending down to pick up his blade.

"Here I thought you were trying to save me from another assassin." The Noble said as he dragged Ivan back up to the surface. "Instead you're using the opportunity of my potential murder to get laid."

He words were a whisper low enough for the women not to hear. "I feel like I should be upset, but really I'm just more impressed."

 

[Ivan Skender]

- "I'm using this opportunity," - He corrected, matching the same low tone as Olvir, as he dripped the water out of his hair. - "to sober you up... and then to get laid." -

This statement, more than anything, could give Ollie a hint on the degree of inebriation Ivan was suffering from; that was, he was not that drunk so as to slur or stumble about, but he was drunk enough that the alcohol was clearly clouding his judgement and - more dangerously - the drink seemed to have neutralized whatever sense of inhibition he had to begin with.

This would become even more clear as Ivan walked up to the girls.

- "My friend was injured," - He motioned towards Ollie as he approached. - "we need somewhere safe for him to... uhhh, gather some strength." - He halted his walk just in front of the girls, almost close enough for them to reach out and touch his bare skin, and certainly much closer than what propriety entailed. Though it would go unnoticed to the untrained eye, if Ollie looked intently enough, it would look as though Ivan was flexing his muscles for the girls to see.

The two of them were pretty enough. One with hazel hair and blue eyes, while the other with raven-black hair and light green eyes, the shade of autumn grass. They were young, maybe about a couple of years older than Ivan, and seemed to be as transfixed on the two Anirians as Ivan was on the pair of them.

- "Can we count on your help?" - He asked, once again flashing a charming smile, as he ran his hand through his hair, so as to drip down any water left over from Ollie's little quip.

Knowing fully well how his friend felt about extra-marital adventures - even if one was not even married yet to begin with - Ivan glanced quickly at Weiroon.

- "You can just wait in the corner, if you prefer." - He told Ollie.​

 

[Olvir]

Unfortunately for Ivan, his plan to sober Ollie up had worked.

As the younger boy tried to instruct the larger, and older, Noble to go stand in a corner he would feel a hand on his shoulder. Now only buzzed, instead of falling down drunk, Ollie looked to his companion. The face he gave the 'bodyguard' was one of amusement, but he slowly shook his head.

"Sorry, ladies, not today." There was still a bit of a slur to his voice as he began to pull Ivan back. Dragging him away from the women.

"I'm afraid my impending assassination..." Several of the girls almost immediately looked at one another. "...Is looming, and it would hardly be chivalrous of us to put you in any danger."

Ollie smiled at the Dreadlord as he dragged him back through the pool. "Isn't that right Ivan?"

He had to give it to the boy, it was a good gambit, but definitely not the one they needed to make right now. Plus, there was only one woman Ollie wanted to be in a spa with and she was sadly absent.

So he'd be the one dragging Ivan out of this particular room, and probably the next until they could get the fuck out of this goddamn place.

 

[Ivan Skender]

- "Wait, wha--?!" - He couldn't even complete the sentence before he felt Ollie's hand on his shoulder, pulling him away from his evening of enjoyment. He tried to protest, his muscles tensing against Weiroon's grip, but as Ollie pulled him away, he - still somewhat inebriated - stumbled backwards, spending the next few seconds helplessly trying to find his footing once more as he half-comically reached out with his arm towards the girls, as if though they could save him from his predicament. - "Noooo!" -

Alas, in a few seconds they were out of the room, and the door slammed itself shut in front of his eyes, as though he was having a really bad dream.

Once he was out in the hallway, he felt Ollie's grip recede, after which he regained his footing with an annoyed 'humph'.

- "Unbelievable!" - He said, borderline soaking, in a very perceptibly annoyed tone. - "That was a sure thing!" - He motioned with his arm towards the door, his frustrated tone a very strong hint that the blonde - again, still somewhat drunk - had seemingly forgotten all about the situation they were in.

- "I'll have you know, that I'll now have to make up for this.... quip of yours, in Tyr!" - He said indignantly, as he walked away through the hallway.​

 

[Olvir]

Ollie let out a laugh, something that might have seemed outright cruel to Ivan, but the buzz still carrying his night couldn't keep the mirth back. "Forgive me."

The noble said, feeling the haze over his mind as he shook his head and ran a hand over his face. Not entirely believing that somehow he'd managed to fall into this particular situation.

"I just didn't feel like having to fend off the assassins myself..." Ollie said, motioning back towards the spa they had come from. "While you were balls deep in some Shekethy lady who probably was going to eat you when she was done."

He was sure he'd heard some culture out here did that...though maybe even repeating the notion was xenophobic.

Ollie's head shook once again, still trying to dispel the cloud. "Besides, there's sti-"

Eyes widened widened to the size of saucers as a figure suddenly stepped out from the Spa which Ollie and Ivan had earlier fled. A figure which he had most certainly not expected to see.

A dead man.

His cousin's bodyguard, upright and walking, loaded Crossbow in his hand.

 

[Ivan Skender]

- "I'll have you know" - He continued indignantly down the hallway. - "that I can face an assassin, even in full coitus!" - Kress' sake, Olvir should've known better about his talents by now.

Though Ollie had kept up talking, the sudden interruption of his voice quickly caused Ivan to turn... just in time for the undead crossbowman to unleash a bolt on the two of them. The projectile whistled past Ollie, and narrowly missed Ivan before it sank into the wall behind them. Before it did though, it did fly through the blonde's flank, leaving behind a deep cut in his torso, that immediately started to bleed profusely.

Ivan though, did not register the impact immediately, instead turning around with annoyance - more than surprise, or pain - flickering through his features. Though the hallway was dark, he got a good glimpse at his assailant, immediately recognizing the fallen crossbowman from before, while even from that distance he could still see the gaping cut in the man's throat from where he had slit his throat the first time. Around the opening, a downing of blackened, coagulated blood could be seen.

Much more sober than before, Ivan managed this time to put up a proper attack. The air around his hands seemed to darken, and before the crossbowman managed to let loose a second bolt, Ivan shot a bout of dark lightning against the undead. This magical attack however, was targeted at the crossbow, more than the man. Within a few seconds, the wooden frame, and - most importantly - the weapon's string that gave the bolts their impulse were gone, corroded away from the hands of the deceased bodyguard.

No more shots for anyone.

He was about to unleash yet another storm of magical prowess when he finally became aware of his wound. Still a bit drunk, and still very much annoyed, he just took a seat in a stone bench on one of the sides of the hallways, as he beckoned to Ollie:

- "You know what," - He said, putting some pressure on his wound, his hands turning red alarmingly quickly as he did so. - "since I'm so useless at defending you," - He continued, snarkily. - "I'm afraid you'll have to deal with this yourself." - Without the crossbow, the zombie should be fairly easy to deal, even for a pretty little-lordling like Ollie that liked to cock-block his friends.

He looked expectantly at Ollie, clearly having missed the point Weiroon had been trying to make, as well as the fact he had just fought the corpse of an undead soldier... something which didn't come about every day.​

 

[Olvir]

Ollie, still half buzzed, looked to Ivan incredulously. "Useless? Who called you useless?!"

He demanded.

"You've been a perfectly competent bodyguard!" It was almost as though he had forgotten about the undead guard at the other end of the hall. Apparently half-insulted, but also half defending his own reputation against Ivan's claims. "Yo-OH SHIT!"

Ollie said as the thundering of boots rang out. The undead man that had stepped out from the Sauna suddenly charging at Ollie without a word. He closed the distance between them within the span of a few heartbeats, and the Noble's sword barely had time to flicker up.

Sparks flew as he caught a pair of daggers crossed upon his blades.

Eyebrows rose, and the noble let out a curse.

"How the fuck! Where-" The assassin didn't answer, but instead unleashed an utterly ferocious assault upon Olvir. Both of the undead man's long-knives flickering with incredible speed. Slicing, cutting, and stabbing.

Ollie bouncing back on surprisingly nimble feet as he countered, parried, and quickly danced around the strikes. "Ivan!"

"Would..." He said as he bandied back. "...You..." Ollie continued his blade meeting the assassins in a surprisingly skillful flurry."...get...off your..." The two of them clashed together in a quick back and forth that would have impressed even a blademaster. Ollie suddenly gaining the upper hand as he scooped up what appeared to be a random potted plant, throwing it at his opponent.

The Assasin raised a hand to block the plant, but the motion was too slow. With one quick swipe, Olvir's crimson blade went swiping through the dead man's head. Severing the mans head in one swift motion. "Oh."

He said as the head thumped to the ground, the body following seconds later with a loud thud.

"Never mind." Ollie offered, turning to his bodyguard. "See?"

The Noble asked, the pleasant buzz still hanging over his mind. "I am fucking awesome."

He declared, not noticing the corpses hand slowly curling.

 

[Ivan Skender]

Still somewhat buzzed from the drink, and unable to see that much further down the gloomy hallway, Ivan would - unfortunately - miss Ollie's spectacular fight with the zombie, instead concerning himself with leisurely bandaging his own wound with ripped shreds of textile from his pants.

While he heard some cries, and some more muffled buzzing, which he assumed would be from Weiroon actually having to do some heavy lifting for once in his life, Ivan remained otherwise unconcerned. After all, how dangerous could an undead zombie be?

Indeed, as he looked up after finally finishing bandaging his wound - and ruining the lower half of his pants in the process - he was greeted with Olvir standing over the toppled corpse of his foe, something which undoubtedly proved his point.

"I am fucking awesome."

- "Oh yes." - He replied with a dry sarcasm. - "Finishing off a zombie... Impressive stuff." - He got up from his seat, and that just in time to catch a glimpse of the severed hand curling up to them. Rather effortlessly, Ivan projected a beam of black lightning against the maimed limb, instantly corroding its flesh from its bones, and rendering it immobile once more.

- "Though it seems you missed a smidge." - He turned on his heels, motioning Ollie to follow. - "Now come on, Weiroon." - He said, though less bitterly than when he'd been cock-blocked a few moments earlier. - "Let's get out of here before your brilliant ideas cost me yet another piece of clothing." -​

 

[Olvir]

"OH COME ON!" Ollie complained, glancing back towards the now half eviscerated hand. The bones and corroded flesh laying on the earth eben as the rest of the body continued to stir once again. It's armor beginning to shift.

An exasperated gasp left the nobles lips, and he shot a look of disbelief towards Ivan.

"I thought Zombies didn't function without brains!" That was what all the stories said. "This is ridiculous."

He continued to complain as the corpse gathered itself up off the floor. Ivan turning and motioning for Ollie to form. The noble offering one last glance towards the now stumbling dead man, his head shaking as he watched it move towards the dismbodied head.

What the fuck was going on?

Still, despite his confusion, Olvir didn't offer any verbal objection. Quickly he moved behind Ivan, the two Anirians cutting through the long halls until they found again found themselves in their rooms. The zombie left trailing long behind.

The door was thrown closed behind the two boys, and quickly they moved to pack their things. Both lads scrambling to get their things and get the fuck out.

 

[Ivan Skender]

Now thoroughly dressed, Ivan hoisted his pack onto his back. In addition to his clothes, he'd made sure to pack as much alcohol as he could onto it, and that not to mention a few pieces of linen he'd... commandeered from the hotel room. With that the two of them set off.

They would reach the edge of the town without any further complication, though by then rumour had already started spreading about the headless "creature" wandering down in the springs.

As they ventured out of Ostgoth, Ivan - by then fully sobered up by both the rushed retreat, as well as the cold mountain air now blowing down on the two of them - would keep an eye out on the path behind them, looking over his shoulder every now and again to make sure they weren't being followed.

Eventually, they would get to a sheltered, narrow valley just to the side of the road. There Ivan would start setting their camp, as the night began to slowly creep on them.​

 

[Olvir]

Half a water skin and the cold mountain air had been all Ollie needed to sober up.

That, and the provable fact that it was most likely his own cousin who was trying to kill him. It wasn't a pleasant assumption, but the only one that he could make with the appearance of the other parties chosen assassin. There were other lines that could be drawn of course, theories that could be summoned, but they were unlikely in the face of the obvious.

As his father said, it was easier to say horse when you heard galloping than it was to say Zebra.

If it turned out not to be his cousin, well, that was a good thing, but Ollie was almost certain. Death and games of killing weren't exactly a new thing amongst the Houses. Nor among the Great families. If there was a chance to gain station, then fratricide was a small price to pay. The only thing that left him wondering was why he was the target.

Olvir was a third son. He had no claim to power, not even if Aisling got killed somehow. Augustus would come to power first, and then his other brother would take over after him. That wasn't even to mention the other branchez who also stood in line.

This attack didn't make any sense, but there had to be a reason. ”Next time he comes after us…”

Ollie said, letting his rest in his lap.

”We need to take him alive.” The noble said plainly, aiming to get to the bottom of all of this.

 

[Ivan Skender]

A raised brow would be the first response Ollie would get from Ivan.

- “Well, that'll be difficult, taking into account he's already dead.” - He had never known zombies to be the talkative type, but still, he got the point. Something could come out of that.

- “Though I think it would be more interesting to focus on the fact that it came charging at us after we slit its throat.” - He paused for a moment, so as to let Ollie catch-up to his rationale. His point was that - as much as your average Anirian did not usually raise from the dead - that bodyguard ought to have been under some sort of enchantment. - “A necromancer charm is not exactly a household spell.” -

He glanced at Ollie. His experience with Anirian high politics beyond Dreadlord intrigue was sparse at best, and though the evidence - that was, the bodyguard Weiroon had recognized - pointed towards another member of the Great House, he severely questioned the wisdom of sending such an easily recognizable assassin, on such a delicate mission. Maybe Olvir did have a point in trying to extract some information out of their assailant, after all.

- “Does anyone in your family, or among your competitors, have the skill for a resurrection spell as the one we've seen?” -​

 

[Olvir]

"He was the most interesting kind of dead I've ever seen." Ollie commented flippantly, but it was obvious that he meant more than just an arbitrary throw away. The assassin, his cousins bodyguard, had seemed to move far better than any zombie or skeleton.

Though he was hardly an expert in necromancer, Olvir had encountered the undead more than once. This was something...not quite the same, he was certain of it. Even if the...thing couldn't talk anymore, he knew they could learn something from it.

"My family?" He parroted, frowning for a moment then shaking his head. "Not much, our magic is more to do with luck."

Aisling had revealed that much to the world, though not the details. "But, ever since the Revolution there's plenty of Dreadlords floating around. If you offer enough coin, you can pretty much buy expertise."

Necromancy was rare in Vel Anir, had been even before the revolution. His family though, even the extended branches, had enough money to pay anyone. There wasn't really much of a clue to be had there, and even if there was, they were miles from home.

"I think we have to get the thing, or lure it to someone who knows how to get it in Tyr." The city had it's own magics, after all.