Private Tales The Bonds That Break

[Ventress]

(Art Credit)​

One marriage threatened to tear all of Vel Hochlind apart.

Negotiations of the arranged marriage between Franz Sirl and Camina Luana maintained an air of artificial civility amongst the noble delegations in town. House Sirl owned the title to Hochlind and the surrounding lands and (especially after the losses incurred by the Revolution) were intent on keeping them, and House Luana wanted to bring these very lands under their control, to combine them with their own adjacent lands and form a barony. Franz and Camina, seventeen and sixteen summers respectively, didn't dislike one another, but neither were they especially thrilled by the politically fueled urgings of their Houses.

Meanwhile, the very citizenry of Hochlind had different ideas. Home to large cattle ranches and horse pastures, the people of Vel Hochlind generally had a very independent mindset. Thus, they wanted Franz Sirl to abdicate as Lord Mayor, to drive out all of the nobility, and to run their own elections in the true spirit of the Republic. They petitioned the local Anirian Guard garrison, first begging for their help, and then demanding.

Blood hadn't been spilled yet, aside from that which ran from a host of unfortunate noses, but the hostilities among the nobles, among the citizenry, if left unchecked, could well see it stain the cobblestone roads.

Two Dreadlords have been called in to keep the peace.

* * * * *​

Ventress leaned over the small counter in the Hochlind Respite's washroom. Her jacket hung from a hook on the wall, and her shirt was damp with sweat. Her breathing was elevated, eyes with little red cracks as they became more bloodshot. She stared into the mirror before her at her reflection, and what she saw was not herself.

Ventress was livid. Not only because of the situation in Vel Hochlind, of which there was plenty to be vexed over, but because the military, upon whose logistics she had been relying, fouled up an essential delivery which was supposed to arrive in Hochlind before her: her focusing drugs. Sagevine, petals of Tyr's Blood. Sagevine, petals of Tyr's Blood--always this, always bitter, always unpleasant. Withdrawal was bad enough, but with the lack of Sagetyr, the drug made through the combination of these components, came her own personal problems.

In the mirror she saw a man she had killed, his diplomat's face perfectly recreated and where hers should be. She blinked and it was replaced by the visage of a strawberry-haired elf from Fal'Addas, she who had gotten too close to Anirian politics. Shifting faces were accompanied by a sloshing, sliding, blurring indistinction of lines, corners, angles, where the painted wood of the washroom seemed to flatten out into an expansive desert of white sands and light caught in the mirror became either Lessat or Pneria.

The line between what was real and what was fantasy was crumbling. This morning, it was bad. Exceedingly bad. If she summoned one of her Projections now, she would not be able to distinguish between her true body and the body of her manifestation.

There came a knock at the door. The sound was to Ventress like the steps of a marching column of soldiers, and her surreal surroundings shifted to accommodate, the desert of white sands dripping like rain off of a rooftop and collecting into a puddle of cobblestone road, whereupon a parade was occurring.

Still, she maintained the slim wherewithal to crack open the door. In the gap she stood, haggard, leaning partially on the door and partially on the jamb. Her brow was already creased in anger, and she was more than ready to incinerate under her wrathful glare whichever woeful soldier had the misfortune of finally delivering her Sagetyr.

Whom she saw was surprising.

Vale

 

[Vale]

A soldier reached the edge of town Hochilnd as he sprinted as fast as his legs could carry him. The man was drenched in sweat and his lungs burned with exhaustion as he tried to reach Hochlind's respite. In order to cut the amount of time, he decided to skip past the checkpoints and take to the alleys to avoid a search.

The soldier made a sharp turn and cut into a new alley, one slightly darker than the rest. He made it about halfway before suddenly his foot caught onto something solid and he fell face-first into the dirt. Shaking his head to clear it, the man peered back to find nothing in his way except just a shadow of a barrel. But when he brought his gaze forward again, he would find Vale suddenly standing there in front of him, shadows gathered unnaturally around his feet and slowly edging towards him.

The Dreadlord's gaze held on the soldier for a moment, inspecting the armor but asking calmly, "And where are you going?" The man skipped introducing himself as he saw the shadows slither without a sound at him, "Hochlind's Respite. I'm here to deliver this to Dreadlord Ventress, in haste." A vial was pulled out from his pocket but when the other Dreadlord's name had been uttered, the shadows already retreated back.

Vale silently stared at the man, his silver optics flicking to the vial and then his face. He took a step forward to lean down and pick it up, the glass pinched between two fingers. "Interesting."

---​

Instead of seeing a terrified soldier, Ventress would find Vale's unflinching gaze staring down at her. His own eyes held an intensity that matched hers and one he naturally carried. At first, the two would hold their gazes for a moment but when he could see her condition, even through the crack in the door, he acted. With one hand, he swiftly pushed against the door and stepped inside, either making Ventress back up or collide with him and forced out of the way. Given her condition, he didn't see how she would be able to resist.

Once inside, he shut the door immediately behind him before locking it. Vale's eyes flicked to Ventress before he stepped further into the room and scanned around. The space grew darker the further he went in, the light almost becoming muted as Ventress could spot the shadows flowing like waves around the room. They would quickly cover the cracks in the windows, door frames, and whatever else led access to outside, thickening and practically soundproofing the space for them to speak.

When that finished, Vale would turn to face her once more as he stood at the opposite end of a small table. Even with the dimmed light, his silver eyes almost glimmered an unnatural color as he peered at her. Ventress would watch his gaze slowly drag down her body, as if he was peeling back her skin and witnessing the internal battle taking place inside.

It had been years since they had last seen each other and he knew what the vial was for now and those thoughts played across his eyes. But after a moment of silence built, Vale slid a gloved hand into his pocket and pulled out the vial, "Right on time." He placed it on the table before gently flicking it with a finger to make it roll across to her.

 

[Ventress]

Ventress had not been informed on the identity of her partner for this task. High command in the Guard, with their ceaseless incompetence, had only deigned to inform her of this mission in the same hour that they had scheduled her to depart. All she knew was that a Luana Dreadlord would meet her in Vel Hochlind. This particular detail as well felt as though it were purposely designed to vex her, as if some among the generals and majors had spite to work out upon either House Sirl or herself personally. They could have sent another Dreadlord in the military, even one who was formerly Luana affiliated. No. They sent a Dreadlord who had the fortune of being retained by his House, part of the pittance of Dreadlords the Houses were now afforded.

So it was Vale who matched her gaze. Or so she thought. It could be another trick of her mind, but she did not think so, even as his now older face swirled with dreamlike obscurity into shifting forms, like a portrait whose paint had begun to run and left only a hint of the former visage it depicted in the nightmarish streak.

He came into the washroom, and Ventress, to her chagrin, was both unable to stop him (had see wanted to) and agitated that he, the man with whom she would be working for the duration, had seen her like this. A far cry from the clean and orderly appearance she maintained in all other hours.

Perhaps it was good that it was him. She may have done something unpleasant to the lowly soldier who otherwise would have brought what she needed.

Ventress's strained eyes trailed down from Vale to the table. Her hand reached over the table, and it looked like she was having trouble precisely locating where the vial truly was upon it. In frustration she ripped off her white gloves and threw them against the wall. It seemed to work, for her bare hand fell upon the vial and, quivering, she brought it up. A floundering thumb popped off the cork and she was careful not to consume all of the Sagetyr--she would need to make this last at least until a comfortable supply could be delivered as promised.

She backed up unsteadily to the wooden bathtub, coming to sit down on its edge. She swallowed, that awful bitter taste on her tongue and uncomfortable burn in her stomach. But both signified that the Sagetyr had begun to do its work.

"We were not expecting you, Vale," Ventress said, helplessly having slipped into referring to herself in the plural because of her destabilization. She rested her hands on her knees and was hunched forward with her head bowed, lacking that strict, military posture she normally carried herself with. "You will have to excuse our unseemly appearance. A logistical error within the Guard, and misplaced trust on our part, are at fault."

Vale

 

[Vale]

Vale stood there quietly, even as Ventress struggled to locate the vial before she ripped off her glove in a new attempt. Once it was in her hand, she quickly consumed about a quarter or half of it, he couldn't tell. But it appeared to have worked in a short span of time, the woman's actions slowed before she backed up and sat on the edge of the tub, almost exhausted.

He didn't speak, allowing her to take all the time she needed to collect her bearings. When she finally shattered the silence, a slight shrug of his shoulders was given, "I figured I fared a better chance than a poor soldier." Blood spilled before a wedding ceremony definitely would have soured the mood for the day. If somehow she lost control, he would be the only one there who could actually stand up to her.

When she commented on her appearance and her fault for trusting the Guard, he simply walked around the table and to her side of it. Vale would grab a chair along the way before placing it in front of Ventress, a couple of feet between them as he would sit down. If her gaze remained pointed toward the ground, she would be able to see his boots and a tangible object for her to focus on if she wanted.

Vale then spoke truthfully but more matter of factly, "Luckily, I don't mind your unseemly appearance." It was spoken by someone who received constant stares and murmurs about his shadows. There was some familiar ground between them. But, it was still a strange sight to see her like this. While it had been years since they actually held a conversation or been near each other, it didn't mean they had not seen each other passing. Vale knew what her typical image was, regal, perfect, strong, and orderly. This was a far cry from that and he wondered how much the toll has grown from the use of her powers.

"Unluckily for us, the people outside do mind and care about your appearance. Our Houses would not like a single misstep to happen." Vale just stated bluntly as it was the circumstances of their situation. Both of them didn't want to be there but it wasn't up to them. The two of them were tasked with making this work smoothly and that couldn't happen if one of them couldn't stand.

With the two sitting there, the Dreadlord would glance to his left before he leaned and reached out for the white glove that had been thrown. His free hand swiped against the glove to remove any dirt and creases. It was pinched between his long fingers before he offered it back to Ventress, asking in a surprisingly softer tone, "How are you feeling?"

 

[Ventress]

I figured I fared a better chance than a poor soldier.

Stunningly correct. While it would not have been the particular soldier's personal fault, and nor was she particularly wrathful without due cause, the soldier would nevertheless have represented the whole of the Guard--with whom she was immensely frustrated, and not just over this foul-up concerning her Sagetyr. Vale, at least, did not represent the military.

A drop of sweat fell from her chin right after Vale said that he did not mind her unseemly appearance.

Our Houses would not like a single misstep to happen.

There came a quiet, serpentine hiss from her nose, rueful at this. "Our Houses..." Though she still considered herself affiliated with House Sirl, her undying loyalty unbroken even after the turmoil of the Rebellion, it vexed her to no end that she was no longer officially affiliated with them. The only reason that she, as a First Level Dreadlord who could have rebuked the military's tardy order that she participate in this mission, was here was for the sole fact that it concerned House Sirl. Franz Sirl was a distant cousin whom she had never met. She wanted to curry favor with him.

She had indeed been staring down at Vale's boot for most of the while, watching as slowly, slowly, it became less of a turtle and more of a boot. She looked up, however, when Vale offered her the glove. And the glove, unlike the boot, retained its real shape in her vision--one object which never seemed to fluctuate in these episodes. She accepted the glove and meticulously began to put it back on.

How are you feeling?

She looked up again. Yes, it was Vale. His face was his face and not some silhouetted recollection from a dream. The washroom behind him was beginning to descend back into true focus as well.

"At present: inadequate. This will fade. We will correct our deficiencies with a bath and fresh attire and return to orderliness. We will be presentable for the meeting between the Houses today."

And then she asked in her flat tone, lacking as it did the typical inflection for a question, "What has House Luana told you of the affairs in Vel Hochlind."

Vale

 

[Vale]

Vale noted how Ventress spoke of their beloved Houses, the venom easy to spot that her words were mired in. The remark wouldn't receive a comment back but just an empty stare. The feelings weren't reciprocated, at least as much. House Luana was Vale the only home he really ever known and practically the only "family" that he had. Unfortunately, those familial lessons taught to him were filled with pain, training, and other activities that had left their scars on him. Even so, his loyalty had been earned, especially with nothing else.

Ventress responded to his last question, more in the typical manner that was associated with her position as she took back the glove. "Good, we both need to be prepared for anything." He stated smoothly as his eyes scanned over her once more. There were many important officials and family members at the wedding. It was just too many faces for one person to cover, even with his powers.

When it was asked about what his House had informed him, Vale simply stood up from the chair and stepped to the side. He grabbed onto the spine and neatly put it back into place before he walked over to the door. One more glance was offered to Ventress before he spoke, his voice giving nothing away, "I would draw your bath and find fresh clothes. The families will be arriving in due time." It was clear he would speak with her when her mind was clear.

With that, Vale just gave her a quick and slight cock of his head before he exited the washroom to leave her be. The shadows that had barricaded the slits and cracks of the room ebbed away and flowed underneath the door to follow after him. Light would return back into the washroom as Ventress would be able to hear the sound of the birds and the city once more. She would also be able to hear Vale's footsteps as he left, the rare sound done on purpose to let her know she was alone as he exited completely.

Ventress

 

[Ventress]

That Vale would withhold information was not an uncommon act among Dreadlords, even among those assigned on the same mission, and yet it simmered irritation within Ventress nonetheless. The military had only provided paltry details, and she could not help but to think that Vale had received much better treatment from House Luana. If she could have found placement within House Sirl again by killing him right in that moment, she would have done it. But it was a foolish, irrational notion. Nothing was that simple. And ever since the Rebellion (which the traitors referred to as the "Revolution") complexities had compounded upon everything. Finding her path back into service with House Sirl was going be difficult.

As the door shut with Vale's exit, Ventress's brow creased more. A thought. That what would transpire in Vel Hochlind would either be immensely satisfactory and cause for great hope, or that she would depart as livid as she had arrived.

* * * * *​

A Projection of Ventress exited the washroom. Went upstairs in the Respite and fetched another shirt and other garments to replace those soaked in sweat and returned to the washroom.

Minutes later, the washroom door opened again. The true Ventress stepped out alongside her Projection. This Projection took her undesirably damp clothes up to her room, whereupon it would wink out of existence once this task was completed.

The difference was stark, as Vale had already noted. Yet here it was again. Gone was the trembling, sweating, unsteady Ventress, replaced with the immaculate image of authority, orderliness, and discipline. The product of the Academy, the tutelage of Archon Isbrand, and the demands of House Sirl.

The common room of the Respite was mostly empty, despite the large delegations of two Great Houses in town. Or, perhaps, it was because there were those delegations. The common man and woman might not be looking for a morning meal or place to gossip, as would otherwise be quite normal. They might be conspiring for something else.

Heel, toe. Heel, toe. Ventress walked with at her languid pace to the table at which Vale was seated, her hands clasped in the small of her back. She looked down the bridge of her nose at him.

"I have not yet made observation of the Lord Mayor's Estate," she said, speaking of herself in the stable singular again. "Nor have I made introductions."

A small lingering edge of irritation at this, for the foul-up of the military's doing, but this was the last ember in that hearthfire. It winked itself out with those words, and she was past it.

Their work had begun.

Vale

 

[Vale]

Normally, the state that Ventress found herself in would have motivated Vale to exploit the opportunity in some way. This time, however, that wouldn't pass as he patiently waited for her in the common room. They were in a joint operation conducted by their houses for this wedding to transpire smoothly. Even he couldn't risk that as they were the only two in the area who could stop anything truly dangerous at a moment's notice. There were too many guests for even Vale and his shadows to watch and keep track of. To a certain point of view, the culmination of all this nobility was a massive target for the right people and they needed to be prepared.

The Dreadlord strode through the common room and toward a chair he had picked out. The room was empty, most of the guards and servants having spotted Ventress inside and knowing to stay away. The only other soul was the bartender, one who avoided the gaze of Vale as he passed by silently before taking his seat.

By the time Ventress entered into the room, she would find the other Dreadlord planted in a seat at the corner of the room. Compared to the rest, the shadows and darkness were exaggerated around him, all of it almost unnaturally black like a void. They appeared stoic but as Ventress neared him, she would be able to spot the shadows, especially underneath his chair and beside his feet, slithering like a snake beside him almost, idly waiting with him.

When she neared his vicinity, Vale tore his silver optics away from the blade he held in his hands, the weapon still being flipped between his fingers without a second thought. His silverine gaze first met Ventress's, locking onto hers before then slowly dragging down the rest of her body, inspecting her one inch at a time. There was the woman he was familiar with, a face that showed nothing and left someone better chances to try their luck on a rock to question what it was thinking.

Once his inspection finished, in one smooth motion, he lifted his leg that was crossed over the other and pushed that foot to push himself out from under the table. Standing to his full stature, he glanced down at Ventress as he towered over her before commenting, "Then it's excellent circumstances that I've done both." Vale hadn't been the one dealing with an episode and that only left him to do his job before he brought the vial himself. "I'll introduce you to the Mayor now. Don't want to leave a bad impression with our tardiness." His gaze locked on Ventress' once more, a silent message sent from him that another episode from her would be less than ideal.

Finally breaking his gaze from hers, he made his way to the door, the darkness in the corner lessening as he moved away before Ventress would be able to see shadows almost follow him along the wall. Vale reached for the door handle and opened it, a cacophony of sound spilling through from cheers to marching to young children screaming. "Ladies first. Show the world you're alive and well." The Dreadlord stood still as a statue by the door, his silver eyes almost glimmering from the inclusion of the new light source.

 

[Ventress]

Then it's excellent circumstances that I've done both.

"Efficient," Ventress said. One of the higher compliments she could give to someone whose surname was not Sirl.

The mention of tardiness produced a small furrowing of her brow. Thoughts of a more conspiratorial nature presented themselves to her, summoning back the ember in that vexed hearthfire for a brief moment. She suspected that the "foul-up" might not have been any mere accident, but intentional, and Vale's use of the word tardiness brought this suspicion a healthy invigoration. High Command within the military may have wanted her to leave a bad first impression on this assignment, so vital was it to House Sirl's interests (a bonus, of course, that her inevitable episode made her look weak in front of Vale).

She let it go for now. There was nothing to be done.

Shadows slithered along the wall as Vale moved and Ventress followed. Seeing his magic again conjured up memories of a different time: the Academy, Isbrand's initial mentoring of her, House Sirl's prominence amongst the noble oligarchy. Gone now, that world and her place in it.

Vale opened the tavern door, and Ventress squinted in the light of the morning sun. She stepped outside, walking with Vale. Vel Hochlind sounded alive, likely for worse rather than better.

And, bitterly, she mused, "Two years prior, our presence would not have been necessary. None of common stock would have dared protest this wedding and their Lord." A sidelong glance to Vale. "A lesson in orderly obedience to their rightful masters may be forthcoming."

A lesson she would be all too happy to teach.

Vale