Completed The City of Peace

[Edric]

Fel'Darrah

Edric. There can be no violence in that city. Do you understand? It doesn't matter the provocations. It doesn't matter the foe or friend you see. Do not use your magic. Do not draw a blade. Do not even throw a punch. Understand?

The Archon's words stilled echoed in his mind as he and the others ascended the final step of the staircase and finally reached the door to Fel'Darrah. Two men stood at either side of the door, though neither had sword nor any weapon that Edric could see. They wore armor, and yet from what he could tell it was only ceremonial. Beautiful carved and inlaid with gold, they reminded the rogue Dreadlord of statues, and yet as the three of them approached their bodies began to turn.

Hands reached out, grasping at the handle of the ornate gold and glass door that lay before them. Neither of them asked any question, nor offered any welcome. Instead they simply pulled open the gates, revealing beyond a massive chamber of steel, marble, and glass the beauty of which would have taken even the people of Vel Zhara's breath away.

Every line, every column, every expanse of the hall beyond was perfection. Crafted in such a way that it seemed almost impossible to behold. It's beauty almost straining to look at.

People of all sorts walked slowly through the chamber their voices softly carrying on conversations. Edric's eyes flickered over them, he saw Elves, Humans, Orcs, Tieflings, dwarves, Giants, and even some beings that he did not recognize at all. They moved with confident strides, unbothered by the newcomers as though three Dreadlords posed no danger at all.

A man, stood before the gates, a smile on his face as he welcomed the three newcomers entering the great hall.

"Welcome, Dreadlords, to Fel'Darrah. City of Peace."​

Edric came to a stop as the other two did. Duncan stood at the front of their small group, his expression radiating warmth and charisma as it always did. He took a short bow, a motion which the other two Dreadlords shortly followed. "I thank you for your greeting, minister, and your acceptance of our request."

The words hardly touched Edric's senses, his head still swiveling as he looked around the chamber. It's design and construction more beautiful than any he had ever seen before. It was startling, almost unbelievable.

"All are welcome within our halls. As long as they hold to the Peace."​

Duncan bowed his head in acceptance, looking at Edric to do the same, and then nudging him in the side when he did not do so. "I...yes, of course."

He said quickly, and the minister simply smiled.

"Do not be ashamed, young Master. Many have been rendered breathless by the wonders of our city. The Storm Giant's were the envy of even the Dwarves."
​

Edric swallowed, and then tipped his head in a nod. Wondering how in the hell he'd gotten to the point where he was impressed by a damned building. Drawing in a breath, he steeled himself. Straightening his back and fixing his eyes on the man before him.

"Please, come this way. I will show you to what you seek."​

The Minister said, turning on his heel and beginning to lead the trio of Rogue Dreadlords away from the gate.

 

[Ivan Skender]

Now that was a sight to behold.

He stood still for a moment, wide-eyed before the city that now rose in front of his eyes. Apart from the great domes, and the steel-and-glass buildings that were - without a doubt - a great deal beyond anything Vel Anir could bring to bear, there was something else that seemed to elevate Fel’Darrah above anything he had ever seen. Whether it was its great towers and spires, that soared high well past the highest dome and into the sky, or the way the clouds enmeshed themselves with the settlement at large, the city looked truly fantastical in his eyes; almost surreal in how perfectly all of its components seemed to fit together.

”Skender! - A harsh voice barked at him, dragging him out of his contemplation. - Stop mulling about and move.” - Looking ahead, Ivan saw it came from the man responsible for his presence there. Lord… what was his name again?

An ambassador in the service of the Republic, on a diplomatic mission to Fel’Darrah, generic Anirian lord #37 there had an ego the size of the sun, not to mention a sense of self-importance that would make even the most arrogant scion of the Great Houses look like a humble preacher by comparison. Alas, it had been Ivan’s assignment to escort the oaf safely to the City of Peace, though truth be told the mere sight of this place was almost enough to offset the incessant complaining and stuck-up behaviour he’d had to put up with during the journey there.

As they made their way over the last few steps of the staircase, the Anirians came face-to-face with a pair of soldiers standing guard under a steel and glass archway. Though the two wardens saw them coming, they did not budge an inch. It was only as they were a couple of meters from the Fel’Darrahns that the ambassador chimed in:

”Leave your weapons, Skender. - Ivan hesitated for a moment but complied. As he handed over his gear, he verified the guards did move, as they pulled open a glass door behind them that led into the city - “Now, let me make this crystal clear again.” - Lord generic started, in his usual unfriendly tone. - ”Absolutely no violence here. If you so much as throw a fist around, I’ll make sure you hang when we get back to Vel Anir.” - He concluded, causing Ivan to roll his eyes, as the man turned his back.

“Now let’s go, I have my meeting with the premier of Fel’Darrah. Accompany me there, and afterwards you’re free to wander until I’m done.” - He finished dismissively​

 

[Edric]

As promised, the three rogue Dreadlords were indeed lead away from the gate and towards their intended destination.

While they walked, all of them were treated to the beauty of the city around them. It's wondrous construction seeming to only become more glorious as time passed. Some of the minute details becoming more clear, and the colors of the walls themselves seeming to change and shift. A constant display of art no other species could have created.

It was as though the whole city had been made to look at. Designed so that it's beauty would radiate across the eyes of a dozen species.

Even Edric appreciated it's splendor, though after reaching where they were being lead to some of the luster quickly faded away. "It's books."

He commented dryly.

"It's one of the oldest and most well kept libraries in the world, you philistine. Even Elbion envies the tomes held here." Edric only stared at the other man, but Duncan let out a loud sigh. "Yes, yes, I know, you're not much for reading. Don't worry, that's not why you're here. Go and explore the city, I'll find you when we're done."

Edric frowned for a moment, but then slowly nodded. Glancing one last time at the massive library before he turned and began to walk away. Duncan's voice echoed as he went. "Remember! No violence!"

The other man called, sending one of the most wanted criminals in Vel Anir off on his own.

 

[Ivan Skender]

As they made their way through Fel'Darrah, that first impression of a city built to impress with scale and detail seemed very much to linger on as every street, every passage, and every tiny little crevice appeared to have a glow of its own. The city had been engineered to look majestic, and it certainly showed.

Of course that while the "regular" parts did have their appeal, they were nothing compared to the grand hall the Anirians were heading into. He only got to see it for a short while, but as soon as the heavy steel doors leading into the gallery opened, he was struck senseless. There, scale and detail seemed to have been combined to perfection, to achieve something truly otherworldly. A large colonnade of immaculate white marble flanked the hall on either side, its great pillars embellished with runes and charms that seemed to glow with a faint blue hue in the morning light. Beyond these, and at the end of the gallery, a great glass window filled the space, projecting the rays of the sun onto the space with such an intensity that it looked as though it was brighter inside than outside. In the light, every detail, feature, and little aspect seemed to be emphasized in such a display that it was almost unbearable to look at them.

Good thing that it was then that this majestic apparition was swept away right before his eyes, as the ambassador shoved him aside, and the guards on duty unceremoniously shut the heavy doors on his face.

He just stared blankly for a moment at the heavy chunks of metal he was left facing, before he turned his back to the gates with a sigh, and went to explore the city. He figured the ambassador would take his time attempting to butter up whoever was waiting for him behind those doors, so he ought to have enough time to thoroughly explore the place.

While he'd always prided himself on his great sense of orientation, Fel'Darrah was too distracting of an environment to keep track of where he was going, and soon enough he was lost. Eventually, he came up to a bifurcation, to the side of which two halflings were engaged in a conversation. So absorbed were they, that they only noticed him when he was a mere step away from them. Ivan asked the pair where the two passes led.

"Left to the Grand Library, right to the Central Market." - One of them said. - "If you fancy big, dusty tomes you'll feel right at home there." - He continued, pointing with chin to the corridor on the left. - "But if you're just looking around, I'd advise you to go down to the market. A big shipment arrived in the evening from the West, so you'll probably find some good stuff down there." - The halfling flashed a grin missing a few teeth. -"Well, that if you hurry. The Kaliti stuff usually doesn't remain unsold for long."

With a nod of appreciation, Ivan quickly made his way towards the passage on the right, and down into the market. He had an opportunity to explore this one-of-a-kind city; he was certainly not wasting it peering over old books.
​

 

[Edric]

Edric had absolutely no idea where he should go.

This entire city, as far as he was concerned, was a massive maze. He had never once been to a place whose only existence seemed founded on the desire for calm. Most cities were born out of necessity. Either to facilitate trade, or defense, or something more...normal.

It seemed the more he learned about this place, the stranger it became.

Edric found himself being distinctly uncomfortable as he walked along the long corridors of Fel'Darrah. His eyes shrinking away from the grand splendor, as he tried to focus more on the people, though quickly learning that did not provide much more comfort.

Every conversation was alien, foreign. Reminding him of the lectures that he'd heard in Elbion. None of it made Edric particularly uncomfortable, but it was a startling realization that he simply did not belong here. He was a hammer, something to smash and break things.

Something that clearly shouldn't exist in a place like this.

Lost in the mire of his thoughts, Edric never noticed that he'd wandered so far away from the library. That he'd crossed into the markets and somehow found himself in a throng of people. Before he knew it, he ran straight into Ivan's shoulder.

Accidentally clashing with the other Dreadlord. "Oh. Sorry."

Edric said, taking half a step back in apology. Not recognizing the lone Initiate.

 

[Ivan Skender]

The first thing he noticed about the markets of Fel'Darrah was how neat and organized everything was. In most other settlements he'd been to so far, the market quarters were messy, borderline sordid, affairs with crowded shoppers bumping and bickering with each other while street urchins - and sometimes cattle - ran amok all over the place. The Fell'Darrah grounds, on the other hand, were projected around a few, wide boulevards that were flanked on either side by cosy-looking little shops whose fronts looked just about as elegant as the rest of the city had so far. Furthermore, while throughout markets elsewhere there always seemed to be some unpleasant scent - whether it was sweat, rancid meat, or rotten vegetables - that relentlessly pierced one's nostrils, here there seemed to be a pleasant, flowery scent wafting through the air as he entered.

Soon enough though, he found out that this particular smell came solely from a small stand at the beginning of one of the wide boulevards. He stopped by for a second, gazing at the merchandise of the shop. It sold some sort of strange smoking pipes which, as opposed to the wooden stummel most pipes had, finished in a tulip-like bulb mouth.

The scent he'd smelled earlier seemed to originate from the pollen that rose from the bulbs. Nearby, a trio of elves, accompanied by a rough-looking pair of dwarves indulged themselves with these.

- "Care to try?" - The shopkeeper had noticed his interest. - "One of these and you'll forget any and all problems you have." - He said, motioning to the flowers with a grin that inspired more suspicion than confidence.

Ivan though had always been one for experimenting, and the sweet scent of the flower helped to seal the deal. He handed a few coins over to the shopkeeper, who duly handed him one of the pipes. - "You take a deep breath." - He said, pleased at the sale. - "Let the pollen fill your lungs, and then exhale." -

He did just that, inhaling from the pipe as much as he could.

It was then, however, that some schmuck bumped into him, causing him to choke on all the pollen that had found its way to his lungs. He coughed afflictively for a few seconds, letting a:

- "Fucking watch whe--" - Slip in Anirian before he burst into yet another coughing fit. He annoyedly turned to the man that had bumped into him, before being struck with the quirkiest feeling he’d experienced in a long time. He knew that face, though he did not know from where, and for a few seconds he just stared blankly at the man in front of him before the eventual realization came: He’d seen him in posters all around the Academy. That was one of the rogues; one of Archon Gilram’s defectors.

His first instinct was to attack. His muscles tensed, while a black aura started to envelop his left hand, partially hidden by the bulb-pipe he carried. Before he attacked though, the words of the ambassador rushed seemingly out of nowhere to the forefront of his mind:

“Absolutely no violence here. If you so much as throw a fist around, I’ll make sure you hang when we get back to Vel Anir.”

In a twist of fate that was much unlike him, Ivan hesitated. His gut told him to attack, though his brain told him to hold. It was not worth it to start a vicious fight - not to mention a diplomatic incident - in the middle of the market when he was unarmoured, unarmed and thoroughly lacking in support. No, it was not worth it to stir trouble for the sake of a rogue Dreadlord that he could deal with in other manners. Through gritted teeth, he softened his stance, let himself relax, and offered the other a smile.

- "Don’t worry. It happens." - He said softly to the former initiate, switching to the trade tongue. Edric was his name if memory served.

The black aura around his hand dissipated as well, in total amounting to little more than a flicker of shade, on an otherwise bright day. A negligible thing to all but those trained to see it.​

 

[Edric]

The moment Edric heard the familiar tones of the Anirian tongue his entire body tensed.

He took a step back almost immediately, dreading as the boy turned and faced him. Edric watched almost in real time as recognition flickered through the Ivan's features. Though he didn't catch the glint of magic which came to warp around his hand. Too focused on the Initiate's eyes more than anything else.

He steeled himself, preparing for the boy to call out for the guards or shout for whomever he had come here with. Remembering Duncan's words, wondering what would happen if things did come to violence.

But instead of a shout or call to the Guard, he received only passing forgiveness.

"You know who I am?" Edric's words came in low Anirian, the same taught to every Initiate at the Academy.

A smart man wouldn't have done it. A smart man would have walked away, found Duncan in the library, and told him there were Anirians present. But Edric had never really been considered all that smart, and this was the first time he had met an Anirian outside of Anirian territory.

He didn't recognize Ivan, having never much paid attention to the underclassmen or even half his own peers, but he couldn't help the tug of curiosity.

It had been nearly four months since he'd left and joined Gilram's company. The only time he learned anything about what was happening back at home was through scraps of news from the various mission the Rogue Dreadlords went on. It was never enough.

In the end, despite his stoicism and reputation, Edric was still human. He was curious, and he missed those whom he had left behind. The friends that he was trying to protect, some of whom thought him nothing less than the Traitor he claimed to be.

So he did the foolish thing, and spoke to the other boy instead of simply walking away.

 

[Ivan Skender]

He quietly cursed himself for his little slip in Anirian. That would make his job more difficult.

Without looking at Edric, he took his bulb-pipe to his lips. The smoking, however, was as much out of curiosity about the flavour and feel of the plant's pollen, as it was a play for time, as he thought about a course of action to take.

He breathed in.

Pretending he was oblivious, hadn't understood, or did not speak the language was out the window. His blunder had sought to that.

Calling for the guards was equally out of the question. Edric was, after all, a de facto Dreadlord, and as far as Ivan was concerned, he'd be able to easily dispatch whatever warriors a city of pacifists could throw his way.

Likewise, and if he had to guess, taking any aggressive action whatsoever would most likely just end up with the rogue in flight and himself either bruised or killed, depending on whether more of Gilram’s disciples were nearby or not.

As it stood, there was really only one reasonable choice: to talk to his fellow initiate, so as to try and find more; more about why he was there, more about who he had come with, and above all, as a little part of himself kept asking, more about why Edric had betrayed Vel Anir to begin with.

He breathed out, exhaling a puff of rose-pink smoke. It had a fruity, refreshing taste, as if one had managed to blend all the fruits in existence into a single wrapper, and left a pleasurably light feeling in his lungs.

- "Of course I do, Edric" - He responded at last, placing an emphasis on the name of the other initiate. Apart from this aside though, Ivan's tone had sounded so calm, so unfazed, that a passer-by could have been forgiven for thinking he was actually just meeting a friend over a smoke, as opposed to juggling an interaction with a dangerous criminal he was not in the slightest prepared to face.

As far as the stories went, the Archons of Vel Anir were as dangerous with words as they were with swords or axes. Ivan had usually managed to get his way with people, and while he did not know much about Edric - except for some passing stories, back from when he was still the golden boy of the Great Houses, before the revolution - he was confident he could snatch something out of him to take back to the Academy.

- "You’re far from home." - He tried, in the same, unperturbed tone from before. Without much thought, he took the pipe to his lips again.

In his mind, hitting Edric with a ‘what brings you here?’ or any variant of the sort would be a bit too obvious, so he aimed for something softer. He exhaled.

- "It’s lovely here, don’t you think?" - He waved for Edric to follow as he started walking further into the market. - "Come on, I want to see more of the city." -​

 

[Edric]

Edric took slow, deep breaths. Carefully curating every thought that entered his mind as the boy continued to speak.

Knowing his name wasn't exactly that shocking. From what Edric knew his name and face had been plastered over half of most Anirian cities. What happened in Vel Draza had made him more than an exile, it had made him a criminal. What had happened at the Palace weeks after didn't help.

But the boy standing in front of him was young, not in a Guardsmen uniform, and was in a place like this.

It was reasonable to assume that Ivan was an Initiate.

He tried to parse through what information Duncan had told him about this place. The rules and laws that needed to be followed, what an Anirian could do or if they could even try to arrest him. He thought not, but he knew he had to be weary. "I am."

Edric confirmed with a nod.

"But then so are you." It was not the furthest he had ever been from Vel Anir, but it was close.

A part of him wanted to laugh. He felt stupid speaking like this.

His head shook, and he followed along after the Initiate. "Mission?"

The Rogue Dreadlord asked, taking none of the verbal dance Ivan tried to offer and instead cutting straight to the point.

 

[Ivan Skender]

Well, that had taken less time than he'd expected. He had counted on the rogue finding out about his allegiance sooner or later, but he sure had hoped that it would be later, rather than sooner.

He brought the pipe to his lips again and took a deep puff.

He could continue with his little verbal entanglement, but taking into account how direct Edric had been with revealing he knew, it looked as though he would be wasting his breath. Although his smooth talk worked like a charm on the random floozies at the Academy, he somehow doubted it would have the same effect on a full-fledged Dreadlord. At least if applied in the same way.

- "Noooo." - He said, his tone shifting from unfazed to sarcastic. - "I'm here just because Gamble wanted me to scout out a place for his retirement." -

They approached a crossing. He took a right, leading Edric down a narrower, quieter side street.

- "And how's the Archon these days?" - He asked, glancing over some of the stands to the side. - "Does he also put you up for math midterms? Or is it only the mass murdering?" - He continued, echoing Edric’s straight-to-the-point demeanour, as well as Anirian propaganda against the rogues.​

 

[Edric]

"Neither, actually." He answered honestly. In his mind there was no real point in trying to lie. "The massacre was my fault."

Edric admitted, almost feeling a weight lift off his shoulders saying it out loud. Not entirely sure why he chose now to put it into words. Perhaps it was this place, the nature of it inviting conversation instead of more death.

"I lost control." The Dreadlord said, surprising himself with the calm in his own voice.

He had come to the realization shortly after Turin; there was no going home. He had slaughtered a dozen nobles, massacred monks in Vel Draza, nearly killed an Initiate simply because she had gotten in his way. There wasn't any going back.

But that didn't meant he couldn't still hold his promise to Noel. "Gilram is...surprisingly understanding."

Edric said to Ivan, thinking of that first day where the Archon had declared his intention. Where he'd told them that to him it was their own choice that mattered most. There were still those who had joined on the day of Graduation who had done nothing at all.

Not going on missions like Edric, but simply remaining peacefully in Gilram's fortress. Spending their days...however they wanted.

"There aren't any assignments, or orders." He paused. "Just a choice to make."

 

[Ivan Skender]

A grimace formed on his face as he heard Edric's explanation. "It was my fault", "I lost control", "Gilram is understanding"... what kind of apologetic self-pitying was this?

Ivan raised his brow. While Edric taking the fault for Gilram might have been accurate, he figured it was about as likely that the rogue would be taking the heat to protect his new overlord. Surely, even if he hadn't taken part, Gilram would know and condone what his followers did. The entire speech felt somewhat suspicious to him.

- "No assignments, or orders." - He repeated, more to himself than to the rogue. - "Just a choice." -

It was at this moment that his pipe died out, the bulb expelling one, last puff of rose-pink pollen before its petals collapsed and fell onto the floor. He threw the object out into a pile of discard that one of the stores had by its façade. With that, he turned back to Edric.

- "Is that what you're doing here, then?" - He asked, his tone becoming slightly more assertive. - "Following your choices?" -

A smirk developed on his face. Self-satisfied and smug.

- "You know that, like yourself, I've spent enough time at the Academy to know bullshit propaganda when I see it." -
​

 

[Edric]

A small smile tugged on Edric's lips despite himself. "Oh it's definitely propaganda."

The Rogue Dreadlord admitted, a small chuckle escaping his throat.

"I'm not stupid enough to believe otherwise, but at least there's honesty behind it." His head shook as he and Ivan continued to tread through the city. As they walked more and more of the great citadel came into view. Each and every hall decorated with another beautiful mosaic.

Some depicted what must have been the Storm Giants that had built this place. Huge humanoid figures with hair of gold or silver. The great artistry depicting the creatures building the city itself, and then eventually passing it on to other smaller figures. Some men, some clearly elves and other species.

Edric stopped in front of one of the huge tile works. "I'm not saying he's any better than the Proctors back home, or the nobles."

A shrug rolled over his shoulders, he still wasn't entirely sure what he believed.

"But I'm here because when he asked I said yes, and if I'd said no..." He trailed off. "Well, I'm not sure what the fuck I'd be doing."

Edric frowned, then he looked at Ivan. "But I've never been known for making particularly good decisions anyway."

 

[Ivan Skender]

- "Well, clearly not." - He responded to Edric, as he halted in front of the tile works. - "But what would you be doing, if you hadn't said yes to the Archon?" -

He breathed deeply and turned to Edric.

- "This is what I'm having trouble understanding." - He continued - "You talk about a 'choice to make', and yet the Republic did offer us a choice." - Provided the choice to "walk away" at graduation could mean not all that much for those who had endured the full terror of the Academy before the revolution, it was still more than what any other Dreadlords in the 400 or so years before them had had. - "Which you promptly spat on, to then go off and follow a man which, you yourself admit, is no better than the ones that came before." -

He turned his gaze to the mural again, leaning his head backwards as he contemplated the sheer size of the works.

- "So you've had plenty of choices; from the Republic, and Gilram, apparently." - He leveled his head again. - "You turned them all down to be here." - He said, with a shrug - "But why?" -

And there it was, the question that had - truly - been gnawing at the back of his mind ever since Edric had bumped into him at the market:

- "Why did you choose to follow Gilram?" -​

 

[Edric]

Edric chewed on the answer which he almost immediately wanted to spit out.

The reason that he had actually gone with Gilram, why he'd made the choice he'd made. A few already knew it, a few others might have guessed it by now. Yet they could all be trusted, they all knew that the truth would see him get killed if it came out.

Ivan wasn't one of them.

He didn't know the kid. For all he knew Gilram already had his strings on him, but at the same time he still felt the same temptation to be honest.

Eventually, a simple shrug rolled over Edric's shoulders. "They used to use me as a tool."

Edric began. "You know, the Proctors."

There was a short pause.

"In my class I was one of the strongest, and the others knew that. So the Proctors used to have me beat on them." He remembered breaking Henk's leg, snapping Fermin's femur, a dozen other times he'd been made to injure his peers at the whim of his teachers. "I did it, because that was what we were taught."

Before the Revolution, before they were offered a choice. "Follow Orders, do as we're told..."

He glanced at Ivan with a shrug, knowing the boy would have experienced the same. "When the Republic came sure it got better. I wasn't being forced to beat my peers, I wasn't being put into a box or killed in a dungeon, but..."

Edric frowned, then looked to Ivan.

"The choices they gave me were no choices at all." A collar, or being thrown from his own home. A home they had forced him into in the first place. "So when Gilram stood in front of me, when he asked what I wanted..."

He stared at Ivan. "I knew I at least wanted other options."

It wasn't the real reason why he had gone with Gilram, not truly, but it was close enough.

 

[Ivan Skender]

- "Uhh, right..." - He replied, brow raised. - "The proctors were cunts, and Gilram offered you a choice." - While Edric could have been telling the truth all this time, his responses were frustratingly vague and bland. Yes, the Proctors were, and had always been, pricks. Ivan knew first-hand of all the horrors the Academy put its students through; all the rot and dirt they liked to sweep under the rug so much... but was a tarnished childhood, and some beaten-up kids, really worth throwing one's life away over?

He certainly did not think so.

- "Is that it?" -

He looked over at Edric, wondering if the rogue - the once golden boy of the old regime - really had such a heavy conscience that he risked life as an outcast simply to get a chance of redemption for all the harm he'd caused and been dealt.

Somehow he doubted it.

- "And what options did the Archon offer you that were worth it throwing your life away? What did he promise you?" - As far as Ivan was concerned, he somehow doubted Gilram was the change Edric was portraying him to be. As far as the Archon had been at the center of the old establishment, he could not bring about change anymore than one could go forwards, by trailing backwards.

He wondered if Edric had failed to realise that.​

 

[Edric]

A frown touched Edric as he realized a problem with this whole conversation.

Fundamentally, he had absolutely no idea what it was he was trying to achieve. In fact, Edric realized that he wasn't trying to achieve anything at all. It's not like he was going to convince Ivan to join Gilram's side, it wasn't like he even wanted the kid to.

He was just trying to get some of the truth of his situation out, which he couldn't fully do because...well he had no idea if Ivan would somehow rat him out. Even unintentionally. "Fuck, man."

Edric said, turning around from the grand vista and sitting himself down on what appeared to be an old stone bench.

"He offered me a choice, and in that moment it was enough." A shrug rolled over his shoulders. "They dragged us out there, some of the Proctors. Pitted us against each other like it was the old days."

He frowned, remembering the moment, the panic he'd felt. "Gilram showed up and killed them all. Every single one of the Proctors."

Men and women whom they had all suffered under, who had beaten them, tortured them. Teachers who had loomed like giants and been practically unassailable.

"Then he asked us what we wanted. Said we could go home to the Academy, or we could go with him. He offered us a place to live, either in peace or...not. Said he would provide for us, see us fed, even make sure we got out of Vel Anir if that was what we wanted." A few had taken Gilram up on that, going into Exile on his dime. "It's not really what he offered."

For Edric, that something else was protecting his family, but Ivan wouldn't know that. "It's..."

A frown touched his lips, and he just let out a sigh.

"You're speaking to the worst person for this shit." Edric said, shaking his head. "They trained me to break legs and kill, not talk about my feelings."

 

[Ivan Skender]

Though Edric's explanation did go on for a bit, Ivan's attention was caught and focused on a particular topic.

"So the rumours were true."

The official telling of events held that it was the Archon that had gone on a murderous rampage during the graduation debacle. While stories about rogue proctors killing students did exist, so far for him that was all they were: just stories. As it turned out, there was some truth to the tales.

Eventually though, his attention did shift back to the conversation, as he heard the talk about feelings.

An amused expression unfurled across his features.

- "No one's asking you to talk about your feelings, Edric." - He answered, a hint of snarkiness perceptible in his tone. - "I just figured that whatever the Archon offered you could’ve been worth my time." - That… was a dangerous thing to confess, especially in a public place, but taking into account that the only one within earshot was a renegade traitor, Ivan felt pretty comfortable with his admission of guilt.

- "Turns out a few kind words at the right moment are enough for some." - Well, technically there was also all the stuff about retiring on Gilram’s dime, but in all honesty, Ivan could also do that by joining the reserves… and there he wouldn’t have to live as a traitor. - "Disappointing, really." -

It was then, in a parallel rationale to that of Edric that he finally reached the obvious conclusion: that their little interaction no longer seemed to have a purpose. Edric did not seem likely to bring him over to Gilram's side, much like he would probably not get anything meaningful out of his former colleague to take back to the Academy.

- "Where do you suppose we go from here?" - He asked after a long, rather awkward silence.​

 

[Edric]

Edric paused for a moment, wondering if he should state the thought that flickered through his mind. After a moment he shared a small anecdote, though he still wasn't sure if it was even his place. "If you're trying to find a reason to switch sides..."

He shrugged.

"I learned more about my magic from Gilram in ten months than I did from the Proctors in ten years." Though, truthfully that had partially been his own fault. Once he'd grasped an understanding of his powers at the Academy, he had simply stopped trying new things.

It had been foolish, perhaps, but when what you were doing worked well enough to make even Proctor's fear you it was difficult to even imagine anything new. It had taken the observations of an Archon to snap Edric back to attention.

"But." He frowned, glancing back towards Ivan for a moment. "The more I sit on this side, the more I realize It's all pretty much the same."

Edric shook his head. "I might be a traitor now, but in a year they might hang a medal around my neck."

That was how Talea had reasoned it. He had killed those nobles, but if Gilram won this fight of his he would be hailed as a hero. Everything had two sides, most more than that. "Who knows."

He said with yet another shrug, and then glanced down the hall. "Drink?"

The rogue Dreadlord offered.

 

[Ivan Skender]

- "Let's go." - He replied to Edric's offer for a drink. Ivan had never been one to reject an opportunity to get drunk... even if it came from a convicted criminal.

Truth be told though, when it came to patriotic fervour, his allegiance to Vel Anir had always been a fickle, capricious thing. For one, unlike Edric, he did not resent the Academy all that much. Sure, the beatings, and all the abuse, were not things we would be forgetting any time soon, but, at the end of the day, he knew full well he couldn’t have gotten it any better, in any other way.

He was an orphan - and a poor one, at that - so he knew that, as far as his past was concerned, it would have been the orphanage or the Academy. In his mind, the way things had turned out had been for the better for him. For all the roughness, and all the duress it had put him through, the Academy had also given him an education, the best combat training in the world at large, and a comparatively better future than any orphanage could have.

With all of that though, did it mean he was, after all, loyal to the Dreadlords?

Fuck no.

Though an orphan, he was a Skender orphan; a noble-born, and as such, he’d always held the belief that there should be more to life than serving as a glorified bodyguard to schmucks like the prick he had escorted here. Of course, while he piously believed he was meant for better things, he had no clue what those better things were, nor how to get to them.

Hence his interest in Gilram’s offer.

- "Private tutoring from the Archon does sound nice." - He replied at last after a period of silence, as he started making his way down the hall. Gilram was not just a dreadlord after all; he was one of the most - if not the most - powerful mage in Vel Anir. He ought to be a much better teacher than most of the Proctors had been so far. - "And yes, you might even become a war hero of Vel Anir, and liberate us from our tyrant overlords.” - He conceded, a hint of sarcasm crowning his tone. - "If you win.” -

- “But for that to happen, you do need to win first.” - That was a lot to ask, from a band of rogues. As far as Ivan knew, Gilram did not have an army that could even come close to the Anirian Guard; especially not with the better part of the Dreadlords backing the Republican regime. - “How do you think you can take on Vel Anir, and win?” - He glanced at Edric.

- “The truth Edric. No more of Gilram’s propaganda.” -​

 

[Edric]

As they walked, Edric did his best to find a tavern of some sort. Fel'Darrah, although filled with mind-boggling beauty did not have much for signage. Despite that though, there was a natural flow to the city. As though everything had been set out with a logic that even the greatest of fools could understand.

By the time Ivan spoke again they found themselves in a set of narrower halls on the edges of the city center. People milled all around them, and in the distance Edric could make out music that most would have associated with a tavern. "How do I think we can win?"

Edric parroted as they continued, pondering the question for a moment.

He didn't even want Gilram to win, did he?

"The Republic has the Guard, what Dreadlords remain." He conceded along the same line as Ivan's thoughts. "But they have more to worry about than just one Archon."

Edric reasoned. He had never much had a mind for books, but as he continued to speak he found himself plucking up some of the understanding he had come by since leaving the Academy. "There's still a dozen cities not willing to return to the fold, The Empire still sits to the north, the Elves to the south, Cortos. Not to mention all the other Dreadlords that went rogue."

Two Archon's, dozens of First levels, and a few hundred second through fourths. Though they had not been nearly as active as Gilram, they were all out there, all still a problem. Of course, if the man did win he would have all the same issues, but that wasn't the conversation they were having right now. "All of those problems have to be dealt with at the same time, by a new government that's split between Nobles who used to run it all and the people who took half of it from them."

Which did not make for smooth sailing.

"I don't know his plan." Edric admitted. "But the Republic is in it's infancy, stressed on the inside by bickering politicians faced with more than a few outside who would love to see them fall."

A frown touched his face as the two of them finally reached the source of the music; a Tavern. At least that's what it appeared to be. "I think Gilram is pushing, and I think he's counting on others to push, and then when the time is right he'll strike. Just like they did during the Revolution."

It worked once, after all.

Though of course Edric had no idea just how much the Archon had planned.

 

[Ivan Skender]

At once, Ivan got into the building the music was coming out of. Inside, opposite the entrance, he found a long counter behind which a woman made her way to and fro, entertaining herself with a flurry of activity.

He noticed her pointy ears. Disgusting.

The promise of a drink though spoke louder, and so he made his way over to the counter nonetheless; a slight grimace of distaste on his face being the only trace of his true feelings.

In keeping up with the aesthetic of the rest of the city, the counter was a fancy-looking thing with polished wood, and a top that looked a bit too clean for a tavern.

When the woman eventually walked by the two Anirians, Ivan asked her for two beers.

- "So," - He said, restarting the conversation. - " You want to replace an unstable regime with another." -

He shrugged. There was no point in pressing Edric for details about how Gilram planned on holding on to power once, and if, he got it. If the rogue did not know the Archon's plans to get into power in the first place, Ivan very much doubted Edric knew what Gilram had planned for what came after. There was however another point of interest he had, regarding Gilramite rule:

- "What would your government even look like anyways?" - Even if Edric did not know how the rogues planned to get to power, Ivan reckoned he would at least have an idea of the regime the rebels would impose once there. In other words, he figured Edric knew at the very least what he was fighting for.​

 

[Edric]

As the conversation carried on, Edric wondered if it would have been easier to just simply smash Ivan's face into a nearby wall several times when they'd first met.

Duncan had warned him of violence, but really whatever this place would have done to him couldn't have been worse than talking about civics for as long as they had been. He almost rolled his eyes as Ivan asked about what Gilram wanted for his government.

"Kress, I should just let you talk to Duncan." Edric said, rubbing a hand over his face.

"You understand that class that time was pretty much a wasted on me?" He asked the Initiate. "I was more the guy they put on the field to brutalize other Initiate's, not sitting in the library thinking about the solution to all of Vel Anir's problems."

Put simply, he was talking to the wrong person. "I haven't exactly asked what structure of government they're going to be putting together."

A shrug rolled over his shoulders. Ivan would likely think him a moron, but that didn't really bother him.

He didn't care how Vel Anir ended up, what government ruled. All he cared about was his family.

His lips fell shut as the waitress walked passed them once more, dropping off both of their drinks. Edric grasped the handle of the pewter mug, bringing it to his lips and taking a long drink before he finally continued. "His main drive, what he wants, is us to have the...place we deserve. That we earned"

Edric said, frowning as he tried to think of the right words.

"For four hundred years Dreadlords have fought and died, and how many of us have been in charge of anything aside from one battle or another? None, even the Archons who had risen to the status of veritable gods had still been beholden to the Houses, or now the Republic. "That's what he wants to change, he wants us to have a say. How he's going to structure that?"

Another shrug. "You're asking the wrong guy."

 

[Ivan Skender]

- "You say that," - Ivan stated, as Edric stopped bragging about being a moron - "but you told me what I asked." -

He shrugged.

- "I don't care about which Virak the Archon will put in charge of which ministry. Only which groups he'll favour over which ones." - Which was to say, he didn't really care that much about the bureaucracy, nor the detailed structure, of a potential Gilram government; just who would end up on top, once it was over.

If Edric was anything to go by, Ivan liked what he heard.

- "Though maybe I should talk to Duncan." -

It had become apparent to him a while ago that Edric was, most likely, not in charge of whichever mission had brought him to Fel'Darrah. Apart from the rogue's apparent distaste for anything not related to punching a problem in the face - a trait not exactly conducive to leading a quest - there was the fact that Edric had just been randomly wandering around a foreign city when Ivan had found him, which, again, was not the mark of someone who a job to do.

If he had to guess, he'd have said that this Duncan was in charge of the mission and that for Edric not to be with the rest of his comrades, it was because whatever assignment had brought the rogues here was either something Edric could not help with, or he would not be that useful with. Although he did not know the other initiate that well, from what he'd seen so far there was, in his mind, only one reasonable hypothesis:

- "I'm guessing at the library? - An intellectual pursuit seemed to fit the bill perfectly. Plus, from what little Lord generic had blabbered about during the journey from Vel Anir, Ivan had gotten the feeling this library at Fel'Darrah was quite something... to the extent one could get excited by a bunch of books, that was.​

 

[Edric]

"Fair enough." Edric said with a shrug, tipping the mug to his lips and considering for a brief moment.

He mused for a moment more, thinking about Duncan stuck with his head in a book somewhere. He'd needed a question answered, something that the man had told him would take either an hour, or a week, depending on if he found the book.

Bringing Ivan to him was probably a good idea. Gilram would gladly take all the new Recruits he could get. Especially those who actually saw the benefit of his plans, but...

Edric was bored.

His knuckles rapped against the edge of the table. "Tell you what."

He said happily to Ivan.

"Outdrink me." The challenge was offered with a smile. "And I'll happily take you to him."