Fable - Ask Shattered Promises

[Syele Wilhart]

Syele had anticipated trouble; that much was certain. No matter how much Jast claimed to the contrary that it would only be a ruckus, as he had put it, her heart was hardly soothed. People were, at best, predictably unpredictable. Put them in large numbers, feeling owed or aggrieved, and you were asking for trouble. All it would take was one person to throw a rock or one inept city guard to throw a punch, and then...

...chaos.

They had also helped craft that powder keg, but not only that, they had marinated it in ale.

The sudden emergence of Jast into her morning was more than enough confirmation that she had been correct in her concerns of a riot. However, the sense of urgency took precedence over any irritation, the call of duty well drilled into the instincts of the former Anirian Guard as her boots hit the floor.

"Have you got everything we need?" Wilhart asked, the tone of her question laced with the ghost of her former service.

She barely waited for him to answer, assuming that Jast would, at the very least, be prepared for the eventuality they had created. Instead, Syele was already heading for the exit, the stomp of hardened leather punctuating how empty the inn was.

 

[Jast]

”I got it!” He assured Syele as he quickly rushed after her. Slinging a pack onto his back that was laden with the supplies he had set out the night before.

Rope, grappling hook, masks, a few smoke bombs, and some other gear that might come in handy. Jast wasn't exactly a professional thief, but he'd worked in the Guard long enough to pick up a few adjacent skills. Enough to know what they'd need once they got to the College.

Quickly the two of them rushed across town, making their way through busy streets until bursting out onto the thoroughfare directly in front of the school. There they found a mass of people, already some thousand strong. It was a huge crowd, and one that was growing larger by the minute. More people pouring out of adjacent streets, alleyways, and even some of the nearby buildings.

Just ahead of the crowd, at the College Gates, one could make out four nervous guards. They stood with truncheons, and behind them two figures in robes waving their hands in what was clearly an argument.

As of yet, no one was addressing the crowd, but before long it would undoubtedly be demanded.

”Well, the eyes certainly aren't going to be on us.” Jast said, trying his best to look on the bright side of the circumstances. The crowd already being three times larger than he'd ever guessed it would become. ”Come on, let's skirt along the wall towards the back.”

No doubt there would be wards upon the bricks, but he had brought something for that.

They were here in Elbion to help themselves to some…additional assistance against magic, but they weren't completely helpless on their own. With a nudge he motioned for Syele to follow as he slipped into the crown and began to push back towards the other end of the College walls.

 

[Syele Wilhart]

Her concerns only swelled as they made their way across the city, the volume of people steadily increasing from a trickle of those heading to the college to the masses pouring out of their homes. Syele imagined that many of these people weren't even aware of why there was a gathering, only that there was one and that they did not wish to miss out.

By the time they reached the gates, it was clear that they had created a small army, the throng of civilian bodies before them cheering and jeering for their prospective promises. Before Wilhart could even comprehend it, Jast was on the move, the words of his plan disappearing into the crowd along with him.

Syele froze, if only briefly, as she stared into the crush of bodies.

"Not now," she muttered under her breath, her right fist curling and unfurling in conscious regimen as she finally followed Jast, or at least tried to.

Amongst the sheer number of people, he swiftly vanished into the crowd, leaving her to attempt to weave her way through the masses gently. It wasn't long before it started to feel suffocating, an invisible pressure growing on the former guard's chest as a soft sheen of sweat crested upon her brow. Her jaw set, and the harder it became to breathe, the more she pushed her way through instead of weaving.

Delving deeper, she looked, her head darting to catch a glimpse of Jast, but only found familiar accusatory eyes staring at her. They lurked at the corner of her peripheral and were caught in swift blinks that attempted to banish them. I can't breathe. There was no threat here; it was only a crowd, but all the same, it still constricted the woman's lungs and stripped any sense of safety away. She had to move forward, she had to find Jast, she had to get out.

"Hey, are you okay, ma'am?"

Wilhart looked to the voice of concern while still moving, unaware of the strain writ large across her disfigured countenance that now held beads of dripping sweat.

"...m'fine," Syele managed to mumble back, unsure of the words that had actually left her lips as her mind whispered suffocating notions into her ear. Did she say she was fine? Or was it that she couldn't breathe? The woman found an anchor in her thumb; the digit squeezed in a vice grip of a clammy palm, the discomfort a reminder of what was real and what was nought but ill-fated memory.

She never stopped moving forward, and eventually, after what felt like an eternity, she made it to the other side, gasping at the base of the walls.

It was almost funny that they, of all things, offered a reprieve.

 

[Jast]

It wasn't the crowds that did him in. It wasn't the press of bodies or the feel of the crush. No. Jast’s demons were at home.

But he knew the look Syele held in her eyes as she stepped out of the crowd. The way that her gaze cast down and side to side. How she moved, her muscles tense and never relaxing even as her foot fell down onto the cobbles below. The desperate breath that sucked into her lungs as she broke from the crowd. One sign would have been enough for him, but try as she might the Guards women tumbled into more than half a dozen.

Jast understood what was happening, because for them it was nothing new.

Not for the Guard.

As Syele crashed against the wall she would feel Jast's fingers suddenly close around her shoulder. The press of his hand not painful, but present. Impossible to ignore as he seized and shifted her ever so slightly so that she would hear his whispers. ”Deep breaths, Soldier.”

Jast said, the tone in his voice carrying all the authority of command. The confidence of a speech he'd spoken a hundred times before.

”Focus.” There was no curing this. There was no doing away with it. Jast knew. He'd seen it, in others, in the mirror. The curse that had been burned into their minds and stripped away the very faculties of their lives. ”Focus.”

He repeated. ”There's a job to do.”

None of them could be healed. None of them would be better, but at least they could ensure the same would not happen to more. His fingers squeezed Syele's shoulder a little bit harder.

”And no one else to do it.” He encouraged, dragging Syele back to the moment. ”Show those fucks the Guard doesn't break. We don't break.”

He said, as if telling himself the same as he did her.

 

[Syele Wilhart]

A hand from the blue made itself known upon her shoulder.

At first, Syele wasn't quite sure if it was real or imagined, her frantic stare looking up to see the face of a ghost that couldn't pass. It was only for a moment, a flicker, before Jast's voice cut through the haze of well-worn trauma that fit like a second skin.

His grip and voice were anchor points to help her find solid ground that the sudden chaos had obscured. They were real, tangible and something to focus on as a shaken nod responded to his words.

She hadn't anticipated the crowds, the mass of bodies packed into the square like a familiar crush. It had been so long since Wilhart had been to any major city that it hadn't even occurred to her that this could happen. It had blindsided her entirely, and were it not for the sense of panic that burdened her, then she might have felt shame.

"...I... I'm here," the woman responded as the man opposite her tightened his grip, a reassurance of self more than anything else. "No... We don't break... We can't break."

Her breathing began to settle. Syele found a steady rhythm in slow, deep inhales through her nose and exhales from her mouth as Jast's words gave purpose to their reality and the task at hand. In truth, she wasn't okay in any sense of the word but had long since faced the fact that she never would be. They'd never really be saved, but couldn't they help stop the cycle?

"I'm with you," Wilhart said, looking up at the former lieutenant with a furrowed brow still etched in discomfort and slick with sweat. "Lead the way."

 

[Jast]

”I'm with you.”

The words echoed in his ears, and the only question he could ask himself was…where was he leading her to?

For a brief moment Jast felt his stomach twist in knots. Fingers tightened into fists, drawing tight until his knuckles turned to white. His own breathing slowed, and for just a moment, a single second, he hesitated.

”Right.” The word came from his lips, but to him it hardly felt as though they slipped across his tongue. ”Let's go.”

The Lieutenant drew himself up, pulling his hand free of Syele as he reminded himself of why they were here. Why they were doing this. Why they had to do this. Both of them were broken, shattered pieces, and yet if they stopped now…there would only be more. If no one stood up and took a stance then more Guardsmen would end up like them. More fragments, more bodies, more graveyards.

They had to do this.

Jast drew himself up, and quickly pushed up against the wall. His pack slung forward, flap drawn back as he pulled out a grappling hook and a length of rope. The hook was a strange black metal, inscribed with odd runic marks. As Jast drew the rope back and tossed the hook over, a strange flicker of light drew over the wall. As if the metal had pierced some previously unseen field.

With surprisingly dexterous movements, Jast grasped the rope and quickly pulled himself up and over the wall. Crashing to the ground with a muted thud. ”Clear.”

He called to Syele, watching for any patrolling wizards.

 

[Syele Wilhart]

This was only the start.

Any hope of retribution and justice was still far beyond their grasp; there was barely even a cohesive plan about how meaningful change could be made, never mind the opposition that would stand before them. It would be a colossal undertaking, likely impossible.

Yet, unbeknownst to Jaster, what was asked of her here in Elbion was more than just a simple heist; it was a trial. She had been blindsided by the crowd, caught unaware and left breathless by the crush of bodies reminiscent of times that could not be forgotten, but in their planning, at least Syele knew that they would have to scale the college walls.

The former Sergeant looked up as the man scaled the role with ease. The spectres of a wall never scaled were still present in her mind, but she was ready for this; she had been afforded the time to think it through. Illogical fears had been packed down into depths, muffling expectations of rebelling militias at the top who would pour pitch, throw rocks, and rain crossbow bolts down upon them. Jast's all clear helped soothe them further, and with little fanfare, she had followed him up.

Boots hit the ground on the other side. The allure was quiet, with anyone who might have patrolled these walls distracted by the swell of angry voices below.

They wasted little time finding their entrance, keeping low as they made their way to the closest door, which was unlocked in the expectation that nobody would have gotten past the invisible ward upon the wall. Once inside, they were greeted with the eclectic decor accompanying an institute of such status. Stone arches flanked by wall sconces that flickered into life as the door opened, enchanted to light the way for those who needed it. They kept their steps light as they moved, passing the occasional painting or plinth celebrating those who had graced these halls long before.

Were there not a need for stealth, Syele might have slashed and smashed them, her distaste for those who wielded magic hardly unspoken.

There was a pause, two voices echoing around the corner ahead of them.

"I just want to see!"

"But we've been instructed to remain within the dormitory! I don't want to get in trou-"

"Just a quick look, promise. I've heard the whole town is outside."

A pair of students, by the sound of it, who seemed more curious about the gathering crowds than aware of why they were there in the first place. That careless obliviousness frustrated her as if they didn't even care about the inequality at their feet. They were unprepared for the world outside their sphere, nor for the two former soldiers awaiting them around the corner.

 

[Jast]

Over the wall and into the school they went. Lines quickly pulled up behind them as they made their way into the outer gardens and quickly cut through into the College itself. An unlocked door allowing them access, Jast rolling his eyes as he judged the wizards for their lack of security thinking. His head briefly shaking before they darted further inside.

Eyes flickered back and forth around the grandeur on display. His lips pressing to a thin line as he couldn't help but wonder how many of those workers outside could have been fed if even half of what lay even within this hall was sold.

A voice echoed out down the hall, disrupting his thoughts as he shifted on his feet.

Jast darted into a corner alcove on one side of the hall, Syele moving into the opposite.

The two caught eyes only briefly as boot-steps continued to ring out. The voices coming closer and closer as the students headed towards the door they had just used to enter. Jast frowned ever so slightly, motioning to Syele to catch her eye. His fingers flickered, signalling for her to take the left, while he would take the right.

"It could get dangerous, that many peop-"​

Before the boy could finish speaking, Jast stepped out behind them.

The two turned a corner, and within half a heartbeat the former Guardsmen were upon them. An arm quickly snaked around the boys neck, Jast shifting and grasping him tight to pull him against his chest. A stuttered cry silenced by the Lieutenants other hand as he constricted the boys airways. The brief struggle passing for only a moment before his eyes fell shut, and Jast released his grip ever so slightly.

Stopping the boy from falling, but going no further than knocking him unconscious. He glanced briefly over towards Syele, ensuring he had done the same before whispering. "Need to stash them somewhere."

His eyes already flickering in search of a closet or something similar.

 

[Syele Wilhart]

It was a routine takedown, and the pair's well-drilled training allowed them to ambush the students in synchronised efficiency. Syele's method did not differ from Jast's, cutting off the air with an arm around the neck and preventing any cry for help from being screeched with the other hand.

Syele found, by experience, that mages could be rendered useless by close combat; it was their only redeemable quality in her eyes.

Although the unconscious bodies they dragged through the well-adorned hallway could hardly be touted as fully-fledged mages, they were more akin to clueless children who toyed with forces beyond sanity and responsibility. Who knew if the students held in their arms would be future tyrants? It would have been a simple task to silence the question in a quick cut, but that was not their purpose here, and Wilhart was not in the habit of murdering hapless teenagers.

After a minute or two, they came across a plain single door, signifying the mundane instead of the rich double doors leading to classrooms, grandiose studies or a library, as Syele noted by one of the plaques. The intuition was correct; the small room was for cleaning supplies, supplying makeshift restraints to keep the pair quiet for what would hopefully be long enough.

"Sounds like they've locked down the students," the woman finally commented after closing the door, noting the overheard conversation before their ambush.

"Do you know where they keep the vaults?" Syele asked, her head sweeping back and forth in watch for any other interruptions. The muted sounds of the gathering storm outside filtered into the hallway, offering a backdrop of anxiety. "I spotted a library back there; it might be worth a look if not."

 

[Jast]

Jast was glancing over his shoulder when Syele mentioned a library. "Probably got those magic books here. Grimies? Grimirs? Grimoroes?"

His head shook slightly, he'd never had many investigations involving magics. Those had usually been sent to the Vigilite or the Dreadlords themselves. He'd met a witch once, but she'd been surprisingly...normal all things considered.

"Vault's downstairs." The Lieutenant said as he shifted and looked back down the hallway they had just come from. "Wizards aren't exactly known for their clever architecture."

Jast said, admittedly unaware of the exact opposite fact being true. Never having to deal with a Wizards tower either during his stories career. "Come on."

He said, ignoring the library for now but deciding that Syele was right and it would be worth taking a long on the day out. First though, they needed to get what would help them fight Dreadlords. The riot outside would only distract things for so long, and the timer was already ticking down.

Quickly the two Anirians darted through the ancient halls, moving through the corridors or a rebuilt and remade Elbion until they reached depths once recently sundered. There they came across their first door locked with more than simple means, and Jast shifted quickly to dig through his pack.

"Watch our backs."[/'color] He insisted out a small flask and scroll.

 

[Syele Wilhart]

"Grimoire," she replied, her lips forming that grim line that tended to appear when she spoke about the arcane. She'd dealt with a few of those types before, easy enough jobs granted you could get the book away from them quickly enough. Mages with a detachable power source were preferable, although heads were also detachable for those with more innate gifts.

As for their architecture, a slight hum of disagreement left her throat. There didn't need to be a conversation about it, even if the idea of being trapped in an esoteric mind labyrinth hardly filled the woman with glee.

Syele followed Jast through the halls, their descent further muffling the chaos outside until it could no longer be heard. They reached the first door to the vault. The coast had been clear so far, with no more gawkers emerging just yet, although the reckless curiosity of magic users would likely fail to keep them cooped up in their dormitories. Would they want to watch the people down below?

Why?

They were incapable of empathising with ordinary men and women.

"On it," Wilhart spoke, keeping to the task of watching Jast's back as he did... whatever he was doing. He was such an unknown quantity that it filled her with unease, especially given the risk. "Let me know if you need a hand."

 

[Jast]

The heavy leather ruck sack struck the ground with only the slightest thud. It's upper flap thrown open as he dug through the contents. Within a matter of minutes the former Guardsmen produced two metal prongs followed by a strange vial.

A foul smell entered the air as Jast poured the contents of the vial upon the prongs, seconds later quickly shifting and moving around the lock.

There was a strange spark which erupted from the lock, and then a wave of color seemed to rush over the door as the null-vial did its work. An alchemist's making, not of magic, but from the gifts of Arethil itself. Jast had acquired it from a friend in the blackguard, made out of the very same material which would eventually become their armor.

Handy, really.

"Doubtless Professor. Though I am unsure where the commoners impressions came from."

Voices echoed on the stairs above, and Jast froze as he picked the lock.

"We have already done so much for them! The rebuilding wasn't cheap, we've contributed funds, magics, our civil wizards are working with the townhall even now! The peasants cannot seem to even grasp that. Bah! Perhaps we should let the flea ridden rabble in, at least with some education they would understand!"

The second voice called, growing closer and closer and Jast quickly scrambled to unlock the door. There was another click, and then shortly after another. Then the door popped open. "Syele."

Jast bit off in a whisper, motioning as he shifted the heavy stone door just enough for the two of them to slip through.