Private Tales Revolution is messy but now is the time to stand

[Zana]

Zana scrunched her nose up at the smells that wafted down the street of Alliria and tried not to gag. Why anyone would choose to live in this city she had no idea even without her natural prejudice for Vel'Anir. The stench of rotting fish alone would take weeks to get out of her hair. She supposed, however, that the particular person she was trying to hunt down hadn't really had much of a choice. If anywhere was a good place to lose yourself, Alliria was. The city first of all made zero sense. It looked as though five different towns had once existed on different sides of the criss-crossing canals and had then been forced together by the rough erected wall around it all. From what she could remember of Talus' history lesson however, that is exactly what had happened.

She glanced back down to the piece of paper in her hair and shifted her weight in her saddle uncomfortably. It had to be around here somewhere... Her eyes raised to scan the three different roads which led off of the particular square she was stood in. They all looked the same; dark and dingy with washing lines thrown across the narrow rooftops by friendly housewives. The faded hues of the washing clothes were the only spots of colour in the drab city and she found her eyes being drawn to them naturally. Nothing like this would be allowed in Vel'Anir. Would that be different after the revolution? Now it was not just her backside which was uncomfortable. With a sigh she dismounted; people were already giving her side glances and she didn't think taking a horse further into the darker bits of the city would do her many favours.

It was hard enough trying to blend in as a Dreadlord and the last thing she needed was for her target to suspect what she was.

The last sightings had placed Thorne as living in this neighbourhood and she had a recent sketch of the man but little else. Her visions had also been unhelpful, leading her to this spot and then abandoning her to her wits. She was deep in thought as she led her horse over to tie him up against one of the stands that stood by the local pub. Perhaps that was the best place to start...

Pushing open the door not a single head rose to look towards her; every patron was too busy with staring into the bottom of their mug to care. It was only the barkeeps beady piggy eyes that focused on her, or more likely the expensive cut of her jacket and boots. She slid onto one of the stalls and slid the piece of paper with Thorne's sketch on across the bar along with a gold piece.

"I'm looking for this man, have you seen him?"

* * *

Thorne​

 

[Thorne]

The barkeep stared a long while at the sketch, apparently taken aback by the sight. When he finally affixed his gaze upon the woman in front of him, it was a look of suspicion that marked his expression.
"Yer the second lady t' come lookin' fer the lad 'ere in the last few months. Th' last time they tried t' kill each other, I think." The man took another long look at her, hesitant to give much more away. He snorted, then spat into a tankard he'd apparently been using as a spittoon. "Don't need that kinda trouble round 'ere. This's a respectable establishment."

. . .
​

Another day, another headache in this miserable shit hole of a city. Jobs were becoming increasingly scarce. Autumn was growing more and more stir crazy. Recent encounters in his travels -- which he still wasn't certain were real -- had reopened old wounds he'd thought long scarred over by now.

As Thorne perused the marketplace nearest the shack he and his charge now called home, he dug through his pockets for what gold he could muster. Some low-quality fish would have to serve for now, he'd just have to hope it wasn't rotting this time. One thing was certain to him: he missed Vel Anir. Alliria was refuge, but it wasn't home. Not really.

He'd taken every chance he could get to make risky deliveries to the land he'd once lived in. He'd killed or gravely injured every Dreadlord he came upon...with one exception. They were the problem, that much he knew. That blasted academy and the horrible things they did to children...he longed to burn it all down, but he was just one man.

Thorne sighed a he handed some coins off to a fishmonger. Looked like the rats had nibbled on it a bit, but the stench was tolerable. As he began his walk home, the thought of drowning his misery in alcohol again crossed his mind. Maybe he'd go by the bar again, grab a tankard of ale on his way home...

 

[Zana]

"Please," Zana added a second heavy gold coin to the first. They clinked against one another sweetly and she could see the man strain not to look at it and drool. His tongue ran over his dry and cracked lips. "I just need to talk to him, it's about his family," whether he would consider his fellow Anirian's family still was doubtful but Thorne had been a soldier, an Anirian soldier. If there was anything that she had learnt during her time working with the Guard it was that no matter where they had come from or where they went after service, there was a sense of family about them that was hard to break. Dreadlords thought it was a weakness but Zana knew now that it was they that were weak for casting love aside.

"Well..." the barkeep gave the coins another glance before snatching them up and turning to lean on the bar. "If it's abou' teh blokes family, who am I ta stop yer?" he put one piece of gold between his teeth and bit down hard upon it. There was a flicker of surprise on his features as though he had suspected it would be fake before he made the pair disappear about his person and launched into his tale.

How much of it was truth, Zana couldn't tell, but he had given her an address and that was as close a thing she had right now. She left the bar whilst staring down at the piece of paper which now contained said address and Thorne's picture when she ran smack into the chest of the real thing.

"I'm sor-"

 

[Thorne]

Letting one's mind wander was woefully easy in Alliria. Thorne had been guilty of it many times, despite all instinct and training telling him that doing so was dangerous. Shuffling through crowds only made things worse. The droning monotony and snail's pace of trekking through Alliria's crowded streets and tight alleyways made for a particularly mind-numbing experience.

So it was that Thorne was unsurprised when the weight of a woman thudded directly into him, though the breath got knocked from his lungs with an audible "oof." She began to apologize but cut herself short, a look of apparent surprise washing over her.
"It's quite alright. Pardon me." The ex-soldier replied gruffly, Anirian accent still showing through despite the years spent in exile.

Just as quickly as he had encountered the unfamiliar woman he tried to push past her. The longer Thorne stayed in one spot, the more he spoke, the more at risk he was of drawing a scene. That, at least, was something he wanted to avoid.

 

[Zana]

"Wait-!"

Zana had had a rough plan of what she had wanted to say to Thorne before this moment of course. He was not the first person she had approached, some poor outcast of Vel'Anir who would be an arrow in their quiver when the time came, and he certainly wouldn't be the last one. Yet each of them had to be handled differently. Some people had run, others had been forced out, some had simply never returned from a mission as they wrestled with their moral compass. Thorne had run but he had done so to protect someone he loved in the throws of grief for his sweetheart. Zana could only imagine the pain and anger he must feel towards the kingdom. What would he do when she asked him to help her destroy it?

Her grip was surprisingly strong when she grabbed a hold of his arm in a bid to stop him from pushing past him.

"Please," she hurried on before he snatched himself away from her. "We need to talk, Thorne. Maybe... somewhere more private."

 

[Thorne]

Feeling the hand clasp around his forearm, Thorne instinctually moved his free hand to grab the hilt of the shortsword stowed at his side, knuckles immediately whitening against the cloth-wrapped grip. He grit his teeth, yanked his arm forward against her hold, and stopped dead in the crowd as she spoke her next few words.

"We need to talk, Thorne."

Fight or flight instincts began to kick in at hearing the sound of his own name. Slowly he turned to look back at her, eyes piercing and a vein bulging from his temple. Whoever she was, she was smart to approach him in a crowded location. Had she caught him alone he likely would've stabbed first and asked questions later. Now, stuck somewhere between thinly veiled outrage and morbid curiosity, he breathed heavily and looked down at the woman who held him in place.

Visions of the young Ania flashed briefly through his mind as he examined her. He had no way of knowing if they were affiliated, but rationality returned to him at least enough to loosen his grip on the shortsword. If this person had wanted him dead she likely would've attacked him when he was alone, he reasoned to himself. Even so, he was on his guard.
"Who. Are. You?" He asked, stern, but quiet.

 

[Zana]

Calm jade coloured eyes flickered between his as he thought through what to do next. Nothing tickled at her visions to alert her to what it was he would choose. He could stab her, he could run, he could... Zana tried her best not to dwell on the infinite possibilities of a man cornered. Her fingers ached to close around the hilt of her own sword when she saw where his hand rested but she daren't not; any move on her part could stay his mind. She didn't like not knowing. As the moment dragged on for what felt like a lifetime the Dreadlord wondered not for the first time since her pregnancy had changed her abilities how people coped without knowing.

When he eventually spoke Zana let out a breath she wasn't aware she had been holding.

"Zana," she released her grip on his arm and offered a smile that was half way between relief and wariness. It made her look tired. "Second Level Dreadlord of House Luana," her hand closed into a fist over her heart and she did a smart bow, though was careful not to take her eyes off of him in case he ran. When she straightened she cast another look around the crowds with a grimace.

"And I need your help," she concluded as her eyes found their way back to him.

 

[Thorne]

"Zana, Second Level Dreadlord of House Luana,"

The very instant she released his wrist, Thorne wrenched it away and stood in front of her silently, unsure of what to do next. His gut sank instantly, heart pounding at a pace he hadn't felt in some time. Confusion wracked him deeply, and his mind raced to search for the answers. Was she lying? If she was, why did she know his name? Even quietly, why would she make such a confession in the middle of an Allirian crowd?

Thorne asked himself all these things and more, but his reasoning offered him no logical answers. If she was a Second Level Dreadlord, why in the names of all the gods would she be seeking aid, especially from a deserter like him? If she knew how to find him, then she likely also knew how to find Autumn...but if that were the case, then taking her as a hostage would've been the best way to lure him into a vulnerable position. So then what? Was she telling the truth? Could this have been another Dreadlord to have broken her conditioning?

The ex-soldier's expression shifted from angry shock and confusion to a resolute glare. If this woman wanted to speak in private, it was best to take her to the same abandoned shop he'd dragged Ania to all those months back. There he could decide whether to quietly dispose of her, or if whatever she had to say was worth listening to. He dipped his head and spoke softly.

"...Fine. Follow me." He acquiesced flatly. Zana willing, he'd lead her to an abandoned building, moss growing over it's stacked stone exterior. He unlocked the door and ushered her in, locking the door behind them. Once inside, the soldier took to threatening Zana nigh immediately.

"If you know who I am, then I'm sure you know what I'm capable of. You've got ten seconds to convince me not to kill you and dump the remains with the rest of your kin."

 

[Zana]

Step one: survive long enough to tell the target that she needed to talk.

Step two: survive long enough to actually tell the target what she needed to.

Zana had indeed followed the man though she had taken careful mental note of every twist and turn in the warren of the slums in case she needed to get back to her horse quickly. The other part of her mind was racing with the wys in which she could achieve step two. Often it had been the case she hadn't managed to get past step one with a lot of her targets so it was already going far better than planned. From what information she had on him she hadn't thought he would be best pleased to see a Dreadlord.

The lock slid shut with a soft snick and Zana turned to lean against the desk which had probably belonged to the shop keeper many moons ago. Her finger ran through a layer of dust as he made his thread and she scrunched her nose up in disgust.

"I will be blunt then; revolution is coming to Vel'Anir and I need more soldiers. The guard and what Dreadlords have defected are not enough to even match their forces three to one. But... if people like you, runaways, outcasts, defects, if you come home and join us we might... might stand a chance of bringing a new type of order to the city."

 

[Thorne]

The ex-soldier waited with baited breath for this mysterious, self-proclaimed Dreadlord to explain her intent. What she wound up offering in such a matter-of-fact manner was...unexpected, to say the least. Revolution. Now that was a word that Thorne had not ever expected to be uttered in the same sentence as 'Vel Anir' by a Dreadlord without something to the effect of 'quelling' being mentioned somewhere in between. It was a concept that he had not thought possible in the dystopian nightmare that was Vel Anir, and to hear such words uttered by what he only knew to be a brainwashed pawn of the Great Houses was...unbelievable.

"Feh. 'Revolution?' If you'd thought to fool me perhaps you should've come up with something a tad less farfetched." Thorne chastised the woman, appalled at the sheer audacity of such a claim. Every experience he'd lived until now screamed at him that she was lying, and his anger began to simmer somewhere deep within him. "Unless some mass breaking of conditioning has occurred among your ranks without my knowledge, I don't see any way your ilk could've organized something nearly so treasonous. I know you Dreadlords better."

He spat at her feet, knuckles beginning to whiten as his fists gripped into themselves. He'd killed others like her for less than this, and even now the only reason he hadn't tried to strike her down was...
"You're husks. Soulless shells bound to the wills of the Houses. I've seen your works...you'll kidnap children and murder their families in front of them before you'd dare to question an order, let alone develop the level of free thinking required to even consider rebelling."

...Was Ania. Ania and the lingering hope, the desire to believe that what this woman now told him was true. His words were scornful, his brain telling him that she couldn't be trusted, but his heart had still been made soft by his encounter with Ania. His eyes drifted away from Zana to a spot in the corner of the room, the outline of the spot in the dust that girl had disturbed still visible in the otherwise total stagnation of the room.

 

[Zana]

Disbelief was the most predictable reaction to what Zana had asked. Anyone who possessed an ounce of sense and had had any type of contact with a Dreadlord, would believe what she said to be impossible. Anirian's were a proud nation. Their military might and what they had built and achieved as humans in a world where dragons tore down mountains and elves sung trees to life was something to be proud of. There was no reason, no sense, to change that and in the process threaten everything that they had done. All those lives, all that slaughter which had been justified in the name of progress. To any honest Anirian a rebellion would see it all undone and that... that was unacceptable.

At least it had been.

Whilst Thorne had retaliated and spat at her feet Zana hadn't moved an inch. Her face was a cool, blank mask that betrayed not a flicker of her true emotions. Instead she stood like an impassive rock waiting for a storm to move on. It was the last of his jibes that made her suspect that that was not the approach best suited to convincing him. So, she let it fall. Tiredness, stress and anxiety were the three chords that made up the symphony written across her face. Real, human, emotions.

"More of us are broken than you would think," even she had been surprised with how many they had found. Most were younger, spurned on by the legacy Talus and Sierra had set by shunning the Houses. Despite their modesty they had done more to the fabric of their society than either would suspect. "I could show you, the future I see, but I do not think you would believe it," with a soft sigh she ran a hand through her hair and shook it out of the loose braid she had bound it on whilst riding. "May I?" she motioned to a chair and then slid herself into it.

"It was the Guards who came up with the plan. The Generals and soldiers have been becoming more uncomfortable with the standing armies the Houses have held and their unaccountability. Their plan had been to kill us all - the Dreadlords that is," a wry smile as she thought back to the memory. "My husband - Talus - rejected the Houses and swore to the Guards and he was a part of this, before we met. When we... found each other and he trusted me, realised I wanted more, he asked me to join. We've been training a large regiment of soldiers to resist magic for months now and a few of them can use it themselves.

Since then we've been asking other Dreadlords we sensed were of the same thinking to join us and our numbers have steadily grown. There is only a couple hundred of us but that is more than nothing. Our aim is to ask the Houses to relinquish their armies. The Dreadlords will become a unit in the Vel'Anir army if they choose too or they can... they can go and have their own lives. Children won't be forced into the Academy but can join if they want to learn how to harness their magic - for battle or for other purposes."

She laughed breathlessly, a sudden sound but a human one.

"It sounds ridiculous every time I say it out loud but," she shook her head. "It is what we plan to fight for."

 

[Thorne]

Suddenly the Anirian woman's facade fell away. The professional composure she'd held so far vanished before Thorne's eyes, revealing someone who was clearly exhausted and weary. Dreadlords Thorne had encountered in the past didn't act that way; they were the epitome of superiority and disdain at all times. He made no move to stop her as she slid into the dusty, old seat.

Thorne listened intently to her story. If what she spoke was true, then huge changes had begun to unfold in Vel Anir in the years since his absence. A Dreadlord swearing to the Guard instead of a House? Dreadlords marrying? It all sounded absolutely incredulous...that is, until he took another moment to examine the woman who sat before him now. Something about the way she had used the that word - 'husband ' - made him look to Zana's torso. Only then did he see, now not quite so hidden behind good posture and confidence, the subtle but distinct curve of her belly.

"Children won't be forced into the Academy but can join if they want to learn how to harness their magic - for battle or for other purposes."

"...You're with child." Thorne realized aloud. Images of Autumn, only a crying child, nearly murdered at the hands of Vel Anir's most loyal dogs, flashed through his mind. He understood. "I get it. That alone is reason enough to rebel against your nation."

The ex-soldier pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed deeply. He swore he wasn't going to let himself be here again, but here he was, relenting.
"It isn't ridiculous. It's why I left. It's why I've spent the last thirteen years of my life in hiding, killing your brothers and sisters in arms whenever I get the chance." He replied, a deep weariness in his own voice. He slid the bracer off of his right arm and undid the wrappings, holding the scarred skin up to the light. Crimson energy danced across the marks, the little arcs etching their telltale torment across his flesh. His eyes met hers, heavy and stern. "Do you know what I am?"

 

[Zana]

"...You're with child."​

A protective hand fluttered to the curve of her belly. Such a discovery in Vel'Anir would be a disaster for her and that a stranger could see it so clearly was a sign her days in the city were numbered. Soon she would have to run, whether the rebellion had happened or not. Talus and Sloan wouldn't stand for her excuses any longer. Despite such worries all Zana could do was smile as she looked down. Equal parts wonder and awe, along with confused bewilderment, took centre stage in the expression of her face.

"Twins," was the only soft admission the Dreadlord gave. She was, after all, trusting this man with a secret that could get them all killed. Trusting him with this more personal one might go someway to get him to trust her in return. The adoration she felt for the two unborn children disappeared with his next words and her thoughts once more turned to business. There was a touch of wariness to her expression now as she eyed up the bracer.

"I've read your file," how complete or accurate it was was another question entirely. Whilst the Anirian's liked to believe they were skilled in the art of information gathering even they had blindsides. Thorne had not escaped them for this long because he was a fool. "Magic doesn't work on you?" she raised a brow.

 

[Thorne]

"Twins,"

Thorne grunted back. Oddly, it was almost precious. A super soldier trained from practical infancy to be little more than a killing machine, now bearing life and fighting for something other than her country's own violent despotism. He and Vera had always wanted kids, before...
"Twice the motivation, then." He replied flatly.

"Magic doesn't work on you?"

He wasn't quite sure how to react to this. On one hand, clearly his careful covering of his footsteps had paid off after all these years. Thorne had been careful not to leave witnesses in his dealings outside of Alliria, and going under the radar was practically second nature to him by now, but...for their information to be that slim? That felt...off. Either the Anirians had just stopped caring after awhile (which was foolish) or someone had messed up royally on keeping things documented.

"Not quite. Not entirely, anyways." He sighed, not entirely too eager to have to elaborate. "I was purpose made by the late First Level Validus Ordo of House Weiroon to kill competition. I strip the magic of others away.

If Vel Anir truly did know that little about their enemies, that would make this alleged rebellion far more feasible. Not easy, probably not even likely, but...well, there was at least a chance.

 

[Zana]

Zana blinked and unfiltered shock crossed her face: it was better than she had hoped.

Her information had been right about the fact he had been created, and by a First Level Dreadlord, but nothing had alluded to his magic being that strong. To strip someone's magic away entirely... But if he was that dangerous why hadn't there been greater steps made to kill him, or for that matter, recruit him to the other houses? He hadn't been hard for her to track down and from what the bartender had said it seemed as though someone else had come before her too. So then why...

"Either Weiroon are keeping the real scope of your powers a secret in the hopes of recovering you for themselves to use, or you have friends in high places," she said slowly, though it clearly concerned her that her information had been so off. Luana were known for their information and for getting the most, if their file on Thorne was that slim then there was a high chance that most of the other Houses' information would be as slim or slimmer.

Zana grimaced then sighed; it was no help to her to dwell on it.

"Does it strip them permanently?" she leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees. "How many can you strip?"

 

[Thorne]

Well...that was a reaction. It was true, then: the Great Houses hardly knew anything of Gideon Thorne anymore. That was for the best, in his mind, but it did leave one to wonder why.
"Jolly old Vel Anir is still rife with conspiracy and disinformation? Color me shocked." He jeered dryly and spat on the floor again, this time out of Zana's way. "Alternatively, the powers that be might've decided I wasn't worth the time after four of the last five Dreadlords that came after me turned up dead."

He wasn't quite willing to describe the details of the fifth...he just hoped that he wouldn't have to see that girl again, as he knew she'd likely be on the wrong side of this rebellion if he did. Her unique 'condition' would see to that...

The veteran sighed heavily and lifted his hand up to show the rune-scars more clearly in what little light filtered through the boarded windows. They glowed dimly, a malevolent, sickly red that betrayed their twisted nature. He was already bracing himself for the inevitable pain that came with using the gods-forsaken things.
"It isn't permanent, no. It's like a toxin. The more I can feed into a person, the longer the effects last. Just a little jolt can take minutes, but a thorough shocking can leave you powerless for half a day." He explained, allowing little arcs of crimson lightning to dance freely across the scars.
"I'm not sure there's an upper limit. Once the negative magic is in the victim's system I don't have to focus on keeping them suppressed; their body has to work it out on its own. It does, however, put me in...rather substantial pain with each use."

 

[Zana]

Zana grimaced at the harsh words and spit; despite herself and her decisions, Vel'Anir was her home. Starting and fighting in this rebellion tore her heart apart every day. It was only her future, her children's future, that kept her from sliding back into supporting those she had known her whole life. Ashur's face when he found out this had been her doing... she just couldn't dwell on it. She had to do what was necessary.

Even if that meant using this man.

Zana rested her chin on her clasped hands and thought it through with a general's eye; how could she use him as a weapon to the best advantage?

"We would need to focus your efforts on the strongest Dreadlords then; the Archon's in particular," she mused half to herself. "Even if they're down for a few minutes it will be enough time for one of us to finish them off."

 

[Thorne]

Thorne raised a single inquisitive brow at the statement, even mumbled as it was.
"Archons? Plural? I'm all for destroying corruption at its source, but you'll forgive me if I dismiss that as suicide." The veteran chided as he began to rewrap the bandages around his hand. "My curse requires contact, either direct or conducted through metal. Unless you've got some means of getting me close without being vaporized..."

After a few moments he deemed the wrapping sufficient and pulled his bracer back into place.
"I want to see a Vel Anir pure of filth as much as I'm sure you do, but I'm not senselessly throwing my life away for someone I don't even know." He was actually a tad incensed by the notion. It's not like this was the first time some naïve underground movement had approached him for help, he was familiar with the tired ideals that often accompanied these requests. "And don't go calling me a coward either. I've only had the will to survive this long in order to protect..."

He faltered. If the Dreadlords knew so little about Thorne these days then they probably knew even less about Autumn and her disgraced House. Maybe discretion was the wisest choice, as always. He cast his gaze downward, volume lowered.
"...someone precious to me."

 

[Zana]

A faint smile dimpled Zana's left cheek as it curved up one side of her face.

"The pretty young blonde woman?" she offered softly, her eyes flashing white for just a few seconds before returning to their jade green tone. In her visions he had seemed close to her and she had looked young so she had assumed daughter but there had been no record of him having a child in Vel'Anir. So an adopted child of sorts and someone who also couldn't return to Vel'Anir she would wager.

"I wouldn't call you a coward, Thorne, far from it, and I wouldn't be sending you up against these people alone," she sighed and ran a hand through her long brown curls. "I have a Dreadlord who can turn people and object invisible, glamour them. I was thinking that if you two worked in tandem it would keep your identity a secret for as long as possible," he would be discovered at some point no doubt: Archon's weren't Archon's for no reason after all. But by then other parts of the plan would be in motion and hopefully Thorne would be the least of their concerns.

 

[Thorne]

A brief tinge of shock, followed by anger, then a bit of resignation washed through Thorne at Zana's inference of Autumn. He balled his fists, looking both frustrated and sullen.
"I--yes..." He admitted hesitantly. Damn mages... "I'm sworn to keep her safe."

The ex-soldier considered her words. He didn't believe himself a coward either, but sometimes he did question why he took jobs that would put him in direct conflict with the same authority he was trying to evade if all he really cared about was Autumn's safety. What was he fighting for, really? Revenge? After all this time was the wound that Vera's execution left on his heart still raw and bleeding? Or was it so that Autumn could live in a world where she didn't need to fear capture at all hours? Where she could learn to stop blaming herself for everything, where she could be free to grow as she chose?

Moreover, what about Ania? Her broken psyche still haunted him to this day. Was he fighting so that children wouldn't have to have their minds broken into the shattered forms their Academy masters saw fit?

After a minute of awkward silence he felt he'd come to the proper conclusion: they were all damn good reasons.
"If you don't plan on senselessly throwing your assets away...perhaps I can be convinced to aid you. After all..." Eyes filled with determination and cold anger in equal parts turned to look upon Zana. "I've developed something of a knack for killing Dreadlords."