Fable - Ask The Burden of Nobility[Vel Anir]

[Olvir]

Olvir grit his teeth for a brief moment. He glanced over to Mina, as though he wasn't going to say anything, and then finally he broke.

"You remember Hella?" Elias might not have, Ollie wouldn't blame him.

Hella was a peasant girl, the daughter of one of the servants of House Weiroon. Least that was what he had always been told. She had been kind, nice. A friend when there had not been many. Elias had known her too, though that was before he'd gone away.

Before his parents had shipped him out to the Academy. "That guy who broke my nose?"

He said with a frown. "That was her dad."

Ollie glanced back to Elias.

"Sold her to the 'Cutters." His voice was suddenly a lot more stern, the jovial cut earlier in the tavern completely gone. He knew both of them were going to tag along regardless now, no need to keep trying to push them off.

 

[Elias]

There was a sobering bite of cold to the evening Anirian air as they stepped out of the tavern. Not that Elias partook in much drinking that night. But he huffed, and could see a thin wisp of his own breath.

Elias shook his head at Olvir. Any useless memories had been beaten out of him by the Proctors.

"The fuck are 'Cutters?"

 

[Mina Pirian]

"Fuck me," Mina said under her breath at the same time Elias asked The fuck are 'Cutters.

"The 'Cutters are a gang. A really bad gang in High Town. They are the gang that scary stories are told about to the Noblekids to keep us out of their territory."

Mina had luckily never come in contact with them but she knew who they were and they were not people to be fucked with.

"Are we rescuing Hella, Olvir?" She asked dreading the answer.

 

[Olvir]

"I never heard those stories." Ollie said blankly, though that wasn't exactly the truth.

Mina was right of course. The 'Cutters, or the High Town Cutters as they were officially called were a gang run by some ex-guardsmen. They were the fierce sort, operating mostly out of the slums surrounding Vel Anir. They were professional, completely ruthless, and with little morality.

Ollie had never met many of them, and until Hella he had never intended to.

Yet after he had followed the trail of the little servant girl he remembered so well. After the Revolution and knowing more of what actually happened, He hadn't been able to stop himself. The Weiroon's were not known for their caring. They didn't love people, they didn't tend to the peasants. They were a House of Merchants and nothing else.

But Ollie wanted to change that. "I am."

He told Mina as they walked towards the City Gate.

"I don't know what you two are doing." As he spoke he shifted his sword belt, pulling the blade on it slightly forward.

 

[Elias]

Elias walked between them, his thumbs tucked into the waist of his trousers, staring up at the night sky.

Wasn't this special! Brave Lord Olvir. Playing hero.

"Did'ja fuck her?" The question punched. Coldly and bluntly. "Got a taste of some... lowborn cunny? Maybe acquired a liking for it?"

The soon-to-be Dreadlord sucked in air through his teeth. Thought of his first time with a woman, when the Proctors dragged them down to the brothels. "Like it so much you could kill for it?"

Elias thought there wasn't a woman so good between the legs it was worth killing for. And for all his frivolity, especially on the matter of tumbling in a bed one day and a different one the next, he'd never been one to let his cock think for him.

Well, maybe there was one woman with a good enough cunt. But, hells, she could fend for herself just fine.

"Say, have you killed before, Ollie? Ever even cut a man outside of sparring? To the bone, maybe?" As they passed through the gate, Eli stopped under it and waited for the others to stop and face him. He glared at Olvir, drew his hands from under his trousers, and violently twisted the air, "You ever—wring the life out of someone with your own fucking hands? Watch them—cry, and piss and shit themselves as their eyes go dead?"

He knew Olvir was thoughtful. Smarter than him, though Elias would be loath to admit it. It was one thing to have a plan in place. But, the resolve to carry it out? To understand exactly what one was doing? Elias would see it through with his friend, who was the closest thing to a brother he ever had, but only if the conviction was there.

And then there was Mina.

"This isn't a game, sweetheart," he turned his fierce gaze onto the young woman and held up a hand before she could protest, "And I'm not saying that to insult you. But, if this shit—" Eli made large circles with his hands in the space between the three of them, "—goes sideways, then you stand behind him." He stabbed his finger at Olvir. Then he stepped forward and, feeling the faint heat of magic rush through his veins, roughly poked Ollie in the chest, "And you stand behind me."

 

[Mina Pirian]

Mina's eyes darted between Olvir and Elias as the Dreadlord Initiate spoke. She was pretty sure that Olvir had never killed anyone and this was certainly going to be interesting. She was happy that she always had her daggers on her as a just in case measure.

She was minding her own business when Elias turned on her and called her sweetheart. Her lip curled as he continued and she was starting to remember why she hated noble boys. Yes, he was more trained than her by far but that did not mean she was useless and she was tired of his jabs.

"Listen, Elias, I was in the Guard. I am not some delicate flower who will run away at the sight of blood. I would appreciate it if you stopped treating me like a child. I am older than both of you assholes."

Older and higher up on the Noble house food chain.

 

[Olvir]

A frown touched his face as Elias prodded his chest once more, listening to his friends sermon. Briefly he wondered when Elias had become like this, or if he had always been this way. He remembered him so differently, happier, but then perhaps that was what the Academy was for.

Beating the happiness out of someone. It was certainly true for the Dreadlord's that had served House Weiroon.

A hand reached up, and he gently pushed Elias's finger down. His eyes, softer than his friends, but with a cunning to them still, stared ahead. "I have killed, Eli."

His voice was tinged with flickers of regret, concern, but a stoicness of resolve. Not the lashings of a boy trapped in the regalia of honor or duty, but simply a man resolved to do what he thought was right.

"Not as many as you I'm sure." He knew enough about the Academy to say that. "But enough, and for my own reasons."

Fingers tightened unconsciously on the sword at his hip. It had been quiet today. "I'm not doing this because I've fallen in love, or because I've some notion of being a hero. Not because I've got it in my head that I'll break a criminal gang or whatever."

His lips thinned.

"I'm doing it because it's the right thing to do." Ollie took half a step to the side. "I'm sure they taught you a lot at the Academy, some things you probably didn't even want to know. But you're not the only one who had to learn."

Olvir started walking again. "And my lessons brought me here."

Elias, no doubt, had been dealt the worst card of the three of them. The academy was a place of tortures, of broken bodies and harsh lessons. There was no denying that. The young Weiroon wouldn't even try. But Ollie had faced his own trials, learned his own lessons. What his House had done. What his father had wrought. What the city they called home perpetuated even now.

Ollie had pulled back that veil. Peaked beneath it, and made his decision. He knew the kind of man he wanted to be.

The kind of man he had to be.

 

[Elias]

Elias' countenance soured as if Mina just handed him a lemon wedge to gnaw on.

"That's great. Special, really."

Age had meant nothing to Elias since he'd been a wee lad. Ever since the day he'd stood bruised and bloodied over the three charred corpses crumpled by his feet in the Academy's yard. Thanks to his last name, a trio of older Initiates had picked him out of the bunch to haze. It wasn't a day he or any that bore witness forgot.

Olvir's little lecture had seemingly gone unheard, and Elias suddenly closed the distance between them and hooked his arm around Olvir's neck, bringing him in for a brotherly embrace in the form of a headlock. The tightness of his hold around Olvir's neck was a bit overzealous.

"Big. Bad. Ollie!" Eli excitedly growled, "Didn't know ye' had it in you! C'mon then. Let's go do the right thing."

He wolfishly grinned off to the side at Mina as he shook Olvir and began to march forward. He let his old friend go and roughly shoved him in the back to push him ahead.

Elias would think about everything he'd heard about his sister Elspeth. An altruistic type, she would give back a hundredfold for what she received. He could think of countless things to say to Olvir about it but held his silence as the motley crew cut through the Anirian night.

 

[Mina Pirian]

Mina just glared at Elias before adding an eyeroll to it. "Fuck off Sirl," she snapped at him.

A few more steps and she realized that she was already over this little outing and if Olvir wanted to get himself killed, he could have fun with that.

"You know what...I will fuck off...have fun getting killed!"

Mina gave a mocking wave and turned around from the boys. She all of a sudden remembered that she needed to paint or nails or some other stupid shit.

 

[Olvir]

Elias' sudden change in demeanor was...well enough to give him whiplash.

But then again, he'd rather have his friend happy than glowering in a corner the whole fucking time. A hand ran through his hair, tucking strands away that had fallen free when Elias 'embraced' him. "Ah so that's what gets you smiling."

Ollie remarked, half in jest.

Then half turned as Mina suddenly whirled around and made her declaration she wasn't coming after all. His head cocked to the side, lips parting to speak...and then he thought better of it.

No point in poking a bear, and Mina was a big girl. He hadn't tried to cajole either of them into coming with, and he wouldn't now, but he had to admit it would have been easier with her along. Lips thinned for a moment, and he half turned to Eli when she was far away enough so that she wouldn't hear.

"What's her problem?" Ollie wondered out loud.

Up ahead, a ramshackle tavern sat in the corner. It's sign long worn and faded, outside two toughs lounged on a pair of barrels.

 

[Elias]

"Bad flow day, maybe." Elias answered and watched Mina's back, then turned to join Olvir.

Approaching the tavern, the pair stopped to survey the run-down building.

"Did you have a plan?" Eli folded his arms and stared hard at the pair of men outside. Were it daytime, he wouldn't have needed to ask. Could've gone in and taken the girl back, whether there were ten men or fifty in there waiting for him. Nobody would've been able to stop him.

"Gonna buy her back?" he raised a brow and after a pause nodded at Olvir's sword. "No, that was never an option, was it?"

Scorched earth, it was, then.

"I read about a philosopher who said that men should wield prudence before power," Eli idly dug the toe of his boot into the dirt, "And I thought: Well, you must not have much power, then. And that people that have power don't think about prudence. They just draw their swords and hack away."

The Initiate sniffed.

"I have your back, brother."

 

[Olvir]

Maybe they had taught him more than killing, or maybe some of what House Sirl had taught him stuck. Either way Ollie listened to Elias notions on philosophy, and then nodded his head.

"My father always said that money is power." He mused for a moment as they stepped forward. "But then he's a merchant."

Though the truth of it was that the last time Sebastian Weiroon had gone on one of his rants Ollie had to admit he'd made some good points. Power was subjective, fleeting. Dreadlords were undeniably strong, some of the best trained mages in the entire world, yet with enough coin you could buy their equal.

There were rumors out east of a company of spell-swords. Mercenary Sorcerer's hiring themselves out as masters of war. Felling a few fortresses as a mere rank of fifteen. Just stories as far as Ollie was aware, but that hadn't been the point of Sebastian's rant.

With enough money, you could buy near enough anything.

"But I'm of his House, so I figure we'll try it his way first." Though Elias was right, it wasn't really an option.

As they headed further up the alleyway the two street toughs finally turned their heads up. One of them whispered something, and the other snickered as the nobles approached the door.

"You two boys lose yourselves on the way to your mamma's house?"​

One of the toughs asked as Ollie stepped forward. "Err, no. Wanting a word with your boss."

The two men looked at one another, and then broke into uproarious laughter.

 

[Elias]

He nodded and flanked Olvir as they approached.

They were a pair of large lads. That bastard had really shot up since the last time they'd met, Elias thought of his friend as he adopted the role of the strong, silent type. Folding his arms, he stayed rooted as Ollie stepped forward.

It must've been a boring night because the sight of two young men asking to speak with their boss had driven one of the guards to laugh himself to tears. When the laughter died down enough, Elias loudly sniffled and cleared his throat and fished in his shirt's breast pocket. He jerked his chin up at one of the men, then flicked a tiny object with his thumb at him. It looped through the air, and the man caught it as it dropped towards his chest. Opening his palm, his light expression grew dark in an instant as he inspected Eli's Academy pin, which bore the Dreadlord insignia.

"Ain't a laughing matter, mate. We're here for business."

The other guard spoke up after peeking at the pin in his colleague's hand.

"Boss is," he cleared his throat, "Boss is busy. You'll have to come back later."

Eli sharply sucked in air between his teeth, "No, no. Try again. Choose your next words very carefully."

 

[Olvir]

Fingers slowly came to rest on the hilt of his sword. As Eli issued his throat. Both of the men looked at each other wearily, lips thinning. Their own hands dropped low, half-reaching towards the truncheons resting in their belts.

"We don't need no trouble, Dreadlord. This is our establishment, and we think you'll find you regret throwin' your threats 'round here."​

Olvir frowned almost as soon as the man said the words.

He spared a quick flickering glance towards Elias. What in the fuck did that mean? Did the 'Cutters have someone high up in the Dreadlords? That seemed...impossible. "No trouble, lads."

This time it was Olvir that flickered something over.

The other guard caught it, his face weary as he clearly expected another Dreadlord pin or something of the sort. When he glanced down into his palm however, all he saw was an Anirian Gold Mark glittering within the bare light.

"Just a bit of commerce." A frown touched his face, the two looked at each other.

"Right well...fuck it..."​

The guard swore.

"Follow me then, lordlings."​

Another look was cast over towards Eli, the man with his pin glancing down at it for a moment more as the other shoved the door open. Almost as soon as the wood fell to the side the smell of tabacco and ale hit the air, though the tavern beyond was surprisingly subdued.

 

[Elias]

A hand extended into the face of the man that held Eli's pin, who rudely snapped his fingers.

"I'll take that back now."

After receiving the pin and dropping it into his shirt pocket, he followed Olvir and the other Cutter into the establishment.

There was something that Elias felt uneasy about, so as they entered, he passed a quick word into Oli's ear.

"I don't like how they were ready to fight," he whispered.

Elias had ever been one to urge caution with his comrades from the Academy. He relished a challenge and took more pleasure in fewer things than besting a strong foe. But Olvir wasn't an Initiate. And even if his long-time lad could handle himself, it wouldn't do well for Eli to barrel headfirst into a fight as he would have liked to do.

 

[Olvir]

The whisper fell on his ear, and Ollie slowly nodded. "Hopefully their leader is a bit more reasonable."

It was a small prayer, but one that he doubted would take any effect.

Olvir and Eli made their way through the tavern. Stepping through a tidal wave of ill-begotten misfortune and ill-repute. Prostitutes, gamblers, thugs, and all sorts of low lives surrounded them as they stepped through the old tavern.

More than a dozen eyes watched them. Some weary, some salacious, and others filled with utter anger. Ollie felt all of them, watching, questioning. He kept his back stiff, his face impartial. Hand resting on the hilt of his sword as they wandered up a pair of rickety wooden steps and made their way to a lone door.

A single man guarded the rickety barrier, his face peering half melted. He 'smiled' at the two nobles, pushing open the door and waving them inside.

"Well, well well. Didn' think Sebastian's welp would ever show his face 'ere."​

The broken mask of a voice made Olvir wince, his fathers name sending a cringe down his spine.

Behind a large wooden desk stood a hunched man, his face a marred and broken thing. Half his teeth missing, a tattoo sprawled over his face, and his eyes milky white as could be. He looked at the two Nobles, every bit a predator.

"What can I help you with lads? Need a loan? A bit of powder? Maybe a...special blade?"​

 

[Elias]

While Olvir was on guard, his muscles tensing and his hand finding its way to his sword, Elias felt at home. Not that he'd habitually rolled about cess-laden places like this in the past, but it was much preferred to galas and the likes. It also helped soothe the nerves knowing he had the power to render the filthy place and its depraved inhabitants to naught but ashes at will. At the very least, he'd convinced himself of that.

While making their way through the bar, he got a rough count of the bodies there, then took note of exits and the like. Maybe a basement had been dug out, too, so who knew how many more goons were ready to spring at a moment's notice. He was aware of Vel Anir's extensive tunnel system, but they'd arrived at their destination before his soldier's thought process could progress.

As they passed the guard to enter the room, Elias held the scarred man's gaze, only jerking his head forward at the last moment. The Initiate absorbed the room's interior with a glance and took his place on Olvir's flank. While his mate was stoic, Eli's demeanor showed a bit more life.

"We're interested in other wares. Special. The kind that ye' keep in chains, so they don't run off."

Another thing Elias didn't like was that Olvir was so quickly identified. Did they know who he was, too, then? How could they, he wondered, when he'd been at the Academy all his life. It was common knowledge that Doran Sirl had sired a pair of twins, but Eli's identity couldn't be well-known. The young man kept his concerns hidden behind a nonchalant countenance.

"Premium stock. Got anything like that?"

 

[Olvir]

Olvir's fingers tightened almost instinctively on the hilt of his sword.

Did the man know? How in the fuck could he? He'd found the Butcher within the old Weiroon Archives. The sword had been dusty, stuck away and forgotten for nearly three hundred years. Even his father had only known scraps about it.

Lips thinned for a brief moment, a thousand thoughts racing through his mind.

Luckily, Eli asked the question for him.

"Oh. That."​

The Criminal mused.

"No I don't think we have anything like that. Got out of the business. The Republic don't much like it and the Houses..."​

He looked over towards Elias.

"Well, they don't have the power they used to."​

There was a brief second. A heartbeat. That was all that passed. Olvir's sword flickered from it's scabbard in an instant. The crimson blade appeared within the air, it's tip pressing so succinctly against the Crime Lord's throat. "Hella."

Olvir's voice was cold Iron.

"Where is she?" The Crime Lord glanced down, not scared, not even a bit, but surprised. Almost shocked that the blade would appear at his throat so quick.

 

[Elias]

"Well, they don't have the power they used to."

Elias' brows furrowed, and his narrow eyes drew into a thin-slitted glare.

The heat started in his gut, where it always did—swirling like a hurricane, wild and untamed. Elias inhaled deeply through his nose and quelled the chaotic flame within him, spreading it through his body's meridians like an astrologer connecting the dots of a constellation on a star map. This happened in the same instant that Olvir drew on the outlaw.

The Initiate turned on his heels to face the door, expecting the guard outside to rush in, but they remained alone.

Befitting the leader of a gang with the name High Town Cutters, the man cooly rested his hands on the tabletop, one over the other, and rhythmically tapped a finger on the wax-finished wooden table. A nervous compulsion? No, he was perfectly calm. As the channels within Elias' body lit aflame and sharpened his strength and senses to a fine edge, he could focus on hearing how steady the Cutter's heartbeat was.

The man flashed a gap-toothed smile, "Hella... Hella... Name don't ring a bell, lad."

 

[Olvir]

The blade pressed closer.

It pushed gently against the crime-lords skin. Not enough to draw blood, but threatening it as soon as Olvir drew the blade more than half an inch. "You're a poor liar."

That was a lie of course.

The man was an utterly exceptional liar, and if Ollie hadn't known any better he probably would have believed the man had never heard of Hella. It was only due to his own research that he knew, that he continued to press the man in front of him.

"Hella? Hmm."​

His head shook, then suddenly his expression changed.

"Oh! That little whore. Red hair? Slight? Yes I think I know her...but she's not here. Sold her off, weeks ago. Some Imperial, wanted a new slave or something."​

Olvir's fingers tightened, lips thinned. "Shame."

His voice was stern, calm.

"Eli." He looked to his friend for a brief second. "Don't think there's a reason to let this place stand if she's gone. Might as well burn it down, yeah?"

 

[Elias]

When Olvir pressed the blade closer, the gangster's hands which had been flat on the table, raised a few inches in a calming gesture. And when the gangster addressed Olvir, it was with his arrogant smile. Surely, this brat was all show, no substance, he thought.

"I read about villages in the reach that when disease strikes, they burn the households of the afflicted. A small sacrifice so that the whole village doesn't perish." Elias stared the gangster down with the eyes of one who had adopted death within his ribcage. It was a deeply hollow, profoundly empty gaze.

"Just an idle thought," Elias chirped, dismissing the topic with a languid wave. He sniffled and cracked his neck side-to-side, "Okay. Yep. Let's torch the place."

As if rehearsed, the guard outside suddenly threw the door open, stormed in, bludgeon in hand, and swung it down. Elias whirled around, caught the man's wrist, and grabbed the front of his shirt to charge the man back out into the hall. Then, the Initiate's eyes flared gold with magic, and a boon of strength coursed into his hands.

Without an expenditure of any considerable effort, Elias quickly twisted the man's wrist back. He released his grip on his shirt, only to strike him once in the chest, shattering bone and pulpifying the organs caged by them. Instantly, the man slumped dead.

Without glancing back into the room, Elias bent down to pick the bludgeon up and turned to meet a group of Cutters that poured into the hallway.

 

[Olvir]

Olvir suddenly stood alone with the criminal Underlord.

A roil of emotions tore through him. Panic, terror, but most of all a sort of thrill that he wouldn't have been able to put into words. Adrenaline was surging through the entirety of his being, and he managed to keep his face straight.

Behind him he could hear Elias holding the thugs at bay. A smattering sound reached the two people remaining in the room. Pained screams, the snap of bone, a dozen other noises which would have made men sick to their stomach.

Ollie ignore it all, keeping his face a still mask. "That boy."

He said simply.

"Is a Dreadlord." The other man paled. "He's going to maim and murder his way through your crew, and then we're going to bu-"

Before he could finish his sentence the once arrogant scum before him threw up his hand.

"ALRIGHT ALRIGHT! Fine! No fucking slit is worth this!"​

The man spat, and Olvir nearly cut his throat there. "Where is she!"

He pressed the blade, and the man shouted.

"I remember the fucking girl. Thin thing, liked to scrap. We sold her to some fuck from the Island's. Goren or whatever. Said they liked Anirian girls in Cortos. He's out by the ports by now. Vel Luin or Yelimir. Sale went through two d-"​

Before he could finish entirely Olvir slammed his elbow into the man's face. A solid thud ringing out as the crime lord crashed into his desk unconscious.

 

[Elias]

Half a dozen men lay broken by Eli's feet in the narrow hall. From where they came, likely twice that number of men waited. Some of the bodies were still. The others writhed and groaned in pain.

When Olvir would step out into the hallway, he would see Eli pull a thin knife out of his hand as if he were plucking a splinter or bramble. The Apprentice Dreadlord repeatedly clenched his hand, and satisfied that it still functioned enough to fight with, he tossed the bloodied dagger aside and turned to his friend. Eli gave him a quizzical look.

"You look like you learned something. What'd he say?" Elias took his eyes off of Olvir to scan the floor for any suitable weaponry. If it came to it, he'd kill these folks in a heartbeat. But it'd be best if a trail of corpses weren't left in their wake. And plus, former guardsmen or not, a life of crime dulled their edges and made them rusty. He'd bested six men easily.

Elias took it as a lesson in avoiding complacency.

He bent down to pry something off of one of the thug's hands. It was a well-worn knuckle duster, and fit perfectly over Eli's fingers.

"Hm," he gave a satisfied hum, then before they proceeded through the door at the end of the hall, he put a hand on Olvir's chest.

"On my go," then he turned to face the door. He held his empty hand up, where a ball of starfire began to form. When it shaped into the size of a grapefruit, Elias swiftly planted the sole of his foot against the door and kicked it open. It violently swung in, and he waved his hand, sending the firey orb through the opening.

It sharply popped on the other side of the doorway, and a blinding light flashed inside the room. "Go!" Elias barked and dashed through. A group of thugs had gathered to ambush them, but they'd been temporarily dazed by Eli's magic, giving them a brief moment to thin the herd.

The Initiate struck one man in his face with the knuckle duster, causing him to crumple onto the ground, and he barreled into the next lowlife, crashing into him with his shoulder.

 

[Olvir]

”They sold her.” The words were clipped, terse. It was not a topic that he wanted to discuss, not in this fucking place.

Ollie was practically seething with rage, his lips thin, his fingers wrapped tightly around the hilt of his sword. The Butcher's Blade called to him, whispered quietly within his mind almost gleefully.

You should kill them

The voice sprang through his mind, the first time the sword had spoken on the night. It lavished the words, eager and gleeful. Olvir scowled through them, shaking his head. ”No.”

He said firmly, only noting what Elias said a second later.

”Alright.” The word conflicted with the one uttered a second before, but Olvir gave no indication he would disobey. He stepped up behind Elias, and then waited for his friend to work his magic.

The next few seconds were an utter burst of activity. Elias’ light flickered out, both he and Ollie burst into the room. The young noble did his best not to sweep his blade through the criminals, instead smashing it’s butt into the nearest face before rushing through the room of blinded men.

Eli and Ollie darted through the room, pushing through the tavern and bursting out into the streets just a few seconds later. Shouts went up behind them, echoing in a call to grab the boys before they could get too far. Ollie paid them no mind, and twisting to the left as he and Eli ran down the nearby alleyway into the darkness. ”They sold her to someone in the west! A Cortosi.”

His words were a rabid growl.