Completed The Blade of Night

[Lilette Blackbriar]

"Black sails~?" she echoed in amazement "Canst sails be red, or mayhaps green too?"

Now that was a striking image! Surely difficult to see by night though, but perhaps her nocturnal vision meant her well suited.

She then froze at the sight of Xeraphine's hitherto unseen knife, thankful it was only a pointing implement for now, though it was certainly distracting. She caught the gist of it though, follow the coast, find the ship there or Gablieux.

"Hmm. I may need to fetch mineself a horse, If am to venture so far."

She pressed her thumb to her lip.

The blade however possessed both gaze and thought, as did Xeraphine's own eye when it met hers.

"Drow steel?" she chimed, "And a gift from the stars?"

"Stories hast I heardest, of black blades that ne'ere dull, and shirk mighty blows by night."

"I wilt maketh good use of this gift, I assure thee." said the elf reverently.

"And where shalt I find this company o' thine, So that I may show thee gratitude for such wondrous gifts?"

---

Xeraphine Yldore​

 

[Xeraphine Yldore]

"You shall find them outside Pitchgate, the northernmost gate out of the Outer City. I will summon them to meet you there. Master Marsh shall accompany you. As to your mount and blade, I believe I have the ideal choices in mind."

An interruption announced itself outside the parlour. A long, drawn-out roar of dismay, reverberating through the walls. A man's voice. Stomping feet came up the stairs before barging through the door, followed by the apologetic voice of Durn Marsh, battling with the voice of the intruder for pre-eminence:

"My lady, I tried to stop him--"

"Hands off, Marsh, I wish to speak to her. Xeraphine! Where in the unholiest dark ones is my bloody stash, I know you--"

Both the rude invader and Marsh stopped on the threshold, spotting Lilette. A man in his mid twenties with a mane of black, shaggy hair, bleary, narrow eyes and uncontrolled and uneven stubble marring his cheeks, chin and neck. A half drunk bottle sloshed in his hand and his dark tunic and hose looked as weary and battered as himself.

The sight of the nun gave him pause, but soon he regathered himself with a haughty sniff and only a slight slur tracing his words:

"You seeking redemption now for your sins?" A swig followed this conclusion, wiping the grape off from his chin with the back of his hand. "About time."

Xeraphine smiled with about as much warmth as an ice-capped mountain peak. Wielding her courtesy like armour, she gestured at the impudent young man with an open palm.

"Lady Lilette, may I present my brother. Fane Yldore."

Spoiler: Fane Yldore

Lilette Blackbriar

 

[Lilette Blackbriar]

Lilette froze at the sudden uproar, mercurial gaze wide and locked with the door.

Her otherwise delicate fingers had already made found her sword's hilt, neither gripping nor absent, but nevertheless ready.

It was Fane's silence that saved them both incident, her pale fingers slipping from hilt to goblet so that she may hide her embarrassed deep in her cup. Truth be told she wondered if Xeraphine felt the same way. Not for herself, but to share a roof with someone so...

Willfully disheveled.

A sentiment only reinforced by their introductions.

"Ah...?" she glanced up as if to question a terrible joke, but found no amusement in those blue eyes.

She had to wonder if his was the defaced portrait outside.

"Uhm," the nun curtly nodded towards Fane, "salutations, Ser."

"I am afeared mine business with Miss Xeraphine be of a material nature."

"Though I am capable of rendering thee spiritual services, if asked." she added, glancing at Xeraphine.

"Shalt I assess the particulars with Master Marsh, then? giveth thee... privacy?"

---

Xeraphine Yldore​

 

[Xeraphine Yldore]

"Shalt I assess the particulars with Master Marsh, then? giveth thee... privacy?"

"No, that shan't be necessary." Xeraphine's voice was calm. Calm as a poised blade of cold steel. But her eyes burned like the forge such a blade might spawn from, searing into her brother. "Grant him a moment or two and he shall remember his manners."

Fane stepped forward with a bestial snarl, raising his pointing finger with his bottle.

"You flaming bi--"

In turn, Xeraphine raised her own finger, shushing him from a distance. Marsh's hand on his arm helped silence him.

"Think carefully before you utter another word, brother of mine. I would hate to expose how you squandered family funds on card and dice in the Mermaid's Tangle, on top of the expensive company you seek there. What ever would father say?"

All the wind abandoned his sails, his shoulders slumping with delayed shame. His eyes still smouldered in defiance, but they stuck to the floor rather than meet his sister's eye. Xeraphine smiled harshly. She knew his greatest fear to be what Kezrim would finally think of his second born on his deathbed.

"Now, then." She sauntered to the other end of the table, approaching her brother with all the coiled meditation of a panther stalking prey. Her stiletto hammered into the table for added effect, near causing him to jump. Suddenly, she turned, smirking at Lilette. "What say you we put him to use, my lady? I reckon he could aid you in our shared endeavour. Against receiving more coin for his aching purse."

Lilette Blackbriar

 

[Lilette Blackbriar]

Lilette squeezed her hands, wringing to the surface what little blood remained beneath till the faintest hue of rose glimpsed light again.

She kept silent through the argument, staring as though it were completely alien.

Expensive company? she craned her neck.

The table shook, eliciting a shallow gasp from the elf. Xeraphine had her undivided attention now, everything from that smirk to the way she kept her brother in line through blackmail. One had to wonder; what sort of dealings did Godewyn have with these people...?

"Uhm," she glanced from him to her, "If thou wishest, Miss Xeraphine."

She regretted those words instantly. A knight would have spoken with poise.

"And if I mayest ask, what role shalt Mister Fane play in our endeavor? What beist mine role in relation to he?"

Following the orders of a drunken reprobate seemed... less than ideal, nor did he seem valuable as rations given his blood likely tasted of muck and cheap booze. Hardly better than the scum of Vel Anir, not what she expected of a noble at all.

It was written on her face, if one read between the lines, the subtle crease between her brows when she looked at him.

And the slight lidded glances exchanged with Xeraphine, subtly pleading.

---

Xeraphine Yldore​

 

[Xeraphine Yldore]

Fane bristled at being called 'mister,' but before he could speak Xeraphine took word:

"Despite appearances, Mister Fane is fairly proficient with a rapier and dagger, the bow and incendiary artillery. He can ride a horse well and knows these lands. Father and he did enjoy the occasional hunt, in their time."

"And Xeraphine knows how to stab others in the back and keep her heart cold as a tomb," Fane muttered in mock praise, shifting his weight uncomfortably from foot to foot.

Xeraphine proceeded as if he hadn't spoken -- or indeed, as if he hadn't even been in the room.

"You may find in him an excellent guide. And who knows? Perhaps you can indeed instill in him some pious prudence and how to keep off the bottle." A scoff emerged from Fane and as if to prove them wrong, he took a rebellious swig. "At the very least, he'll cause less trouble being outside the city bounds. Some fresh air and the smell of the sea will be good for him, I suspect. Everyone wins."

"Except the brothels," Fane added, wicked smile and flashing eyebrows hoping to upset Lilette, since his sister proved so obstinate to his insults.

Finally, Xeraphine glanced at him, as if to say with her eyes: remember what I can do to you. He muttered inaudibly to himself, slinking out of the room again.

"Of course, I do not wish to force him upon you. I would submit him to your command. He needs to learn how to take orders again. If you do not wish for him to join you, I shall let him rot in the nearest tavern instead. Master Marsh. Prepare our three displayed blades in the armory. I will want Lady Lilette to choose her weapon."

"At once, my lady."

Xeraphine returned her gaze to Lilette, allowing herself a small smile.

"You should find more than a few satisfactory armaments at our disposal, while we work on your blade. It may help you to decide which enchantments you would want woven into your own steel. Finish your drink, if you wish. I shall show you what we have."

Lilette Blackbriar

 

[Lilette Blackbriar]

His assessment of Xeraphine immediately brought to mind her dagger. She stole another glance at it, feeling all at once a familiar sting while rubbing at the space between her ribs.

Lilette uttered not a word, head down, save for the way she craned her neck at Fane's... pastimes, brows knit as if word "brothel" were somehow foreign to her. Perhaps she needed to bush up on the common tongue? The nun made mental note to ask him later.

Lady Yldore clarified once her brother was gone, to which she sighed in relief.

"...oh, thanks be to Astra..." she muttered.

"Well, if thou thinkest he wilt listen...? I mayest even protect the man."

Her voice carried a sort of sarcastic resignation with it, she even rolled her eyes at the thought, even if she had every intention of following through.

Maybe it would feel good, to put him in his place.

She returned Xeraphines faint smile then, pausing at the rim of her goblet.

"Mm. I doth believe I hath smelt enough alcohol for one evening," she chortled.

The wine was set aside, half full, and Lilette stood to follow and give her host another curtsy.

"I am most eager to see thine work! I've not had chance to wield but mine own sword, confessedly. Mother wert an enchantress herself, but to touch something of human make wilt be new indeed."

"Or doth Master Marsh forge for thee?" she trailed off, "I meanest no assumption."

---

Xeraphine Yldore​

 

[Xeraphine Yldore]

"He will listen," Xeraphine assured her. "He may complain like a whipped mule, but he is not daft enough to defy our House."

"Or doth Master Marsh forge for thee?" she trailed off, "I meanest no assumption."

Xeraphine let out a lilting laughter, surprising even herself, her gloved hand covering her mouth.

"Him? Forging? I'd be a'feared to let him anywhere near a hammer, let alone a smithy. Don't tell him that though — it would mortify him to fall short of his ancestors."

Back down the stairway and through another door in the corridor of paintings. Kezrim's stern gaze and the girl's innocent gaze seemed to follow them, considering their journey through the bones of their manor.

Soon enough, the armory presented itself to them, door opened by Marsh. A neat, relatively small space, stark in its lack of decoration and grey stone walls and floor. Racks upon racks littered the space, presenting a dizzying selection of weaponry. But it was from a grand display of fine glass that the dwarven manservant unlocked three blades suspended on black mounts like steel horizons below a nightsky,

Durn took down the first one, carrying its black blade with flat hands. An obsidian blade ran straight from an angular crossguard, a simple faceted pommel crowning the dark-brown leather of its hilt. The length and size of the hilt marked it as a bastard's sword, or a one-and-a-half sword, favouring fingers of one hand to steer it by its pommel.

Spoiler: Music

"This is Bloodtoll. Its enchantments were not woven by our hands, but impressive all the same. For every drop of blood it spills, it strenghtens its wielder. Renders them faster and more durable against their own injuries. Simple, yet effective. It is indefatigable in its power, relying only on you scoring proper blows."

Spoiler: Bloodtoll

With her nod, Durn returned it and extricated an even longer blade, at least six feet of sharpened steel blooming from its bed of a hilt, with an extra crossguard to protect its ricasso. This massive greatsword boasted a hilt that looked worthy of scores of hands, but a proficient warrior would know that it allowed the sword to be handled almost like a spear, granting its wielder flexibility and speed at different ranges, according to their grip. Its black blade looked similar to Bloodtoll, though ornamentation of its crossguards swirled with more pageantry.

"Nightspell. A blade that not only breaks formations, but can break magic itself. Allow its Emril steel to taste earth and its Celestine Iron pommel to reach for the skies, and it shall shield you with night itself. The dark smoke that will coil from it not only distracts your foes, but will devour most magic it cleaves through and absorb their energy for its own. Should someone, say, launch at you with arcane fire, you may strike back at them with their own flame. Beware, though. Once employed, it will need to bathe in moon- and starlight for a full night before it can see use again. And some magic might be safer to absorb than others, as you will see its smoke mimic the given element."

Spoiler: Nightspell

After placing back the more cumbersome Nightspell, Durn drew a rapier of a one-handed grip. Its blade seemed to absorb the light more than its kin, and when the manservant swung it in an arc or two, its form blurred in strange, shifting motions. Whistles reminiscent of an airy flute followed these swings, making the implement almost seem musical. Only the intricate crossguard remained undisturbed to sight and appeared to make up for the lacking size of its steel.

"And last, but certainly not least, Lullaby. Or as Fane likes to call it: Fencer's Bane. This has seen him safe out of more than one duel. Like Nightspell, it is capable of great confusion to your opponent -- both in sight and sound. They say wounds from it fail to heal, and each cut and scrape weakens your foe, making its blur and tone more and more prescient to their minds. Test the balance of each, if you wish."

Spoiler: Lullaby

Lilette Blackbriar

 

[Lilette Blackbriar]

"Thine secret be safe with me." she giggled impishly.

Despite the woman's intimidating tendencies, Lilette found it difficult not to smile up at Lady Yldore from time to time. The nostalgia of a noblewoman's wry humor tasted sweet on her tongue.

Ah but the armoury pleased the eye as well, her own wide like a kid in the candy store.

After a few long moments spinning slowly through the room, the elf shuffled out of Marsh's way, returning to Xeraphine's side with an excited grin. Each instrument was met with awe-struck appraisal, mercurial eyes lagging behind each time she tore them away to give Lady Yldore her due attention.

Lilette drifted like a ghost before the display, fingers, like snowfall against the black of night, gently swept along the flat of each blade.

Bloodtoll, like something from a dark fairy tale.

She frowned pensively, recalling past battles in moonlit streets. The vampire would surely feed this weapon aplenty. But would it compare to her own gifts?

Nightspell looked familiar.

A second crossguard drew her gaze a little longer, pulling from memory those days when Godewyn let her watch spars. Didn't he grip the blade to thrust once?

Lullaby stole her attention longest.

Each floral curve met her finger tips from stem to end, but she frowned pensively.

"...so graceful, so... beautiful."

Too beautiful, for a brute like her.

She turned to Bloodtoll, hands ghosting above the hilt. It would have been so easy to give into her nature, commit herself to massacre as before.

Lilette screwed her eyes shit, let out a pained sigh. This was not the way of a knight.

"Nightspell." she announced, "I willt wieldeth Nightspell, and honorably so."

Blade held carefully in both hands, it almost seemed ornamental in her grasp, not the cumbersome blade which Dun Marsh had hefted from the display moments ago.

She turned to Xeraphine, head held reverently low.

"These art magnificent gifts, Lady Yldore. I wilt care for it as though 'twere mine own."

"I shan't forget the hospitality 'o thine house."

---

Xeraphine Yldore​

 

[Xeraphine Yldore]

They said that a warrior's choice of weapon spoke volumes more about them than any tabard or heraldry could. Xeraphine carefully observed Lilette caressing each weapon like long-lost mementos. Xeraphine couldn't help but wonder if someone as old as her had ever seen these blades before, held in different hands, in another age.

The choice became Nightspell. A prudent decision, no doubt. It was the only one to grant a means against the unpredictable arts of a spellcaster. It seemed that Lilette chose with both caution and defence in mind, while also being undeterred by the intimidating length of the zweihander. As stalwart and pristine as herself, statuesque in its length and majesty.

Xeraphine dipped her head in a small bow at Lilette's gracious words.

"I'm certain you will wield it so. It pleases me greatly to see you appreciate our handiwork." Her words thawed some of that earlier, frosty courtesy, grateful tone seeming to finally match her expression. "Many of these weapons haven't seen use, not since . . ."

The noblewoman stopped short. She could feel her throat constrict. A stinging sensation burned behind her eyes, faint but irrepressibly there. Her hair fell over her face, stare locked on the floor, flooded with memory. The Siege of Alliria. Men breaking through gold-leafed doors. Servants and staff dragged out by hair and arm. Her father forced to kneel in public humiliation, in his own courtyard of beautiful alabaster statues, which stood as petrified as her younger self.

And who did he kneel before?

Ormvel. That fat bastard with his maggot's smile spreading across his obese features, yellowed grin parting his dust-brown beard, all decked in furs and velvet like a turkey bloated by its own sense of superiority. Fingers steepled before him, considering Kezrim's fate. Considering their fate.

Without realising, her hand had pinched stray fabric from her own dress, near tearing it off in stewing, impotent rage.

"My lady?"

Even Durn Marsh had noticed his charge stricken with merciless regret and furious grief.

Lilette Blackbriar

 

[Lilette Blackbriar]

Spoiler: Music

---

"Lady Yldore?"

Xeraphine's iron facade softened before her very eyes, then cracked outright. Lilette carefully set her blade aside and pitter pattered towards the woman.

Lips pursed, eyes wide with concern, she searched her face till the realization struck.

She took her by the hand without second thought, grasp impossibly soft with elvish youth.

"Oh, Xeraphine... we hath seen ought too much for gentle women, hath we not?" she whispered.

Lilette thought to hold the woman, but blinked the thought away. Instead she cupped another hand over Xeraphine's and took a half-step towards the door.

"Mayhaps we shouldst returneth to the parlor? I wilt fix thee a soothing tea."

"Master Marsh?" she called over her shoulder.

"Wouldst thou bringeth me mine satchel? It doth contain herbs for thine lady."

"Tis an elvish recipe, thou see'th. Good for nerves and spirits both."

---

Xeraphine Yldore​

 

[Xeraphine Yldore]

Master Marsh looked more flummoxed than if half the city had come besieging their doors, his beardless, nearly shaven head swiveling and turning to take in all that was transpiring. Rarely had he seen his mistress so paralysed, deadlier even than the disease in his old master, Kezrim.

"Aye, of course . . ."

The manservant didn't make it out of the door though before Xeraphine stirred. The touch on her hand, soft as falling snow, breathed animation back into her. Her eye fluttered, wresting herself free from the past and back to the present. The white nun looking at her with genuine concern — mingled with something else Xeraphine couldn't immediately identify — and Marsh turning into a headless chicken at her display.

Never show weakness. Weakness is the end of power. The words of her father tumbled down the cracking cliff of her mind like a rockslide, rumbling disapproval. You must keep both friends and enemies guessing. Always.

"No." Her voice quivered like a struck tuning fork, resonating back into control. More mundane irritation overtook her features, pursing her lips and narrowing her eyes, calculative gaze shifting between her two witnesses. Her hand slid free from Lilette's gentle grasp with a whisper of velvet. "Pay no heed to me. 'Twas a little spell, nothing more."

While she adjusted her gloves, as if smoothing out the faint crease from Lilette's touch, Durn Marsh visibly relaxed, his scarlet-coated shoulders falling and his hands clasping behind his back, mirroring his lady's reconquered formality.

But when Xeraphine's gaze snapped back up to Lilette, some of that stoked fire still smouldered in her gaze. Promising ruin to her enemies, and seeing that promise potentially fulfilled by Nightspell and its new owner.

"The only remedy I need is the security of our house. We need that shipment. I entrust this most dire task to you. It will help us forge a new future, Lady Lilette."

A future without them. The Merchant Council. Her wordless sentiment shined through her eye like the gleam of a polished dagger.

Lilette Blackbriar

 

[Lilette Blackbriar]

The way Xeraphine shut her out, like the drop of a portcullis on frozen cobblestone, it broke the girl's heart. But there was hope yet, in the gentleness in her retreat and the fragility of her dismissal. The elf's worry eased, knowing she'd not her further grief. Perhaps her new friend had a reputation to keep?

"I, Miss I..." she should have insisted.

This woman was hurting. Doctor's orders, she could have commanded, but her voice caught.

"I... wilt see to mine armour, and make for Pitchgate forthwith, my lady."

Lilette bowed her head low, unable to bear her own cowardice.

Nightspell was taken close to her chest as the nun crept out of the armoury, but she paused on the otherside of the doorway, making a half-turn.

"Xeraphine?" she added with a determined smile.

"I shan't rest till we findeth thine ship, thou'st mine word on the matter."

And with one last solemn nod, she was off.

---

Xeraphine Yldore​

 

[Xeraphine Yldore]

Spoiler: Music

Xeraphine saw Lilette off, donning a faint smile of consolation and a small bow of respect.

She watched the nun from a window, stepping through the sordid streets, Nightspell on her back. Soon enough, the smog claimed her, rendering her black-and-white form into little more than a shade.

True, the shipment was important. But resources could be replenished. Ships replaced. The true value of any stratagem, Xeraphine had learned, was the stock of skilled aide and expert allies one kept in their arsenal. No army fought without soldiers, and no cause was ever won without fighters. In Lilette, she saw what might very well turn into an instrument of the very sharpest kind. As chilvalric and pious as they came, desperate for a cause. And all that Xeraphine would have to do? Paint the target. Point out the enemy. And righteous wrath might ensue. The key was in how such an enemy was to be portrayed.

This task, as much as anything, was a test of Lilette's efficiency and reliability. Who knew? With a modified sword at her disposal, she might become a deadly weapon indeed.

Perhaps even something that could rival that cursed guarding dog of the merchant council. Xeraphine remained before the window in the parlour, hands folded behind her back, eye locked on the outside, as if her gaze still pierced through the shabby craftsmans quarter to Lilette.

"Master Marsh."

"My lady?"

"Tell our little mice at the Court to have her followed. No attempted muggeries or theft. But keep their eyes on her and our expedition. I will wish to know her every move in Alliria."

"Very good, madame."

Xeraphine lifted one finger, pursing her lips with prim thought.

"And see what our bull-masks can dig up on a Godewyn or Lilette of Ragash. There must be a fabled elven warrior or two by those names from Falwood."

"As you will."

Xeraphine smirked faintly, planting that finger on her own cheek. Rogues and fanatics could be all well and good, but at the end of the day, if a great dragon was to be felled . . . who better to call on than a knight of old?

- Fin -