Fable - Ask The Fires of the Heart

[Kiros Rahnel]

Fae; he’d heard the tales told by lectors during his lessons in younger years but had never actually seen one, let alone met one. Lyssia was not quite what he expected given the stories he had heard, though as he reflected upon the tales he could not come up with a consistent description that they implied – aside from a chaotic and malevolent nature. All were qualities he certainly did not see in her, and he further did not expect to find a fey as servant to an innkeeper. Whatever assumptions he carried clearly held little accuracy in the face of evidence before him, although she spoke of olden courts and her absence from them. It implied that there was clearly more to fey; and further that she too was estranged from her own kind.

Yet her next words were that of sacrilege, turning his expression into an offended scowl.

“Ignorance. Then why even call it divine? It is nothing more than concept thereof!” He glared as he spat out the words. Once per fortnight, he had requisite reminder of the presence of the divine; not that he cherished such occasions in the slightest. But he had to suffer Her for reason of his own mistakes, and he remembered his fate of damnation as well. Arguing with Lyssia would get him no where; and as bitter as her comment had made him, putting his indignation away was still much easier than allowing himself to be caught by his former peers.

“Dispense no answer; it is a poor time for theological argument.” He soon followed up, with tone far more neutral. Such conversations rarely went well anyhow, in his experience.

Her next words however, brought him to a brief silence. As hesitant as he had been to confess, her statement and demeanour discouraged him further. Perhaps better not to; it might only serve to alienate his only possible ally and cause her to feel implicated in the mess. But then, if not to the actual crime then how ought he explain matters? Murder would be one matter; he was further wanted for heresy. She had already made her views on the divine irritatingly clear; more likely that she would find understanding in the latter than the former.

“I am declared a heretic. It is a death sentence.” He explained tersely; averting his eyes in regret at the statement. It was truth, though incomplete.

 

[Lyssia D'avore]

"Your divinity would quake before the prim were it given the ability to think and to reason. All of the gods and goddesses of this world are, at their core, mortal. The magic that underpins all of creations is not, and withdrawing it would bring about the end of everything. As it is, disrupting the delicate balance enshrined within it could - and would - destroy even the Old Ones."

It was all the more argument she would give, despite the request to let it drop. She shook her head, though; she did not disbelieve in the existence of higher power, whatever he or others might worship and divinity. It was just that the power of those divine beings were all derivative of the greater power, the one from which the world had arisen on the first day, and her people not long after.

"You are not the only one to have a death sentence leveled at them," she said quietly. "The road is not over until the blade drops. And sometimes, it never does." Sometimes, it drops in a way that you never imagined was possible.

 

[Kiros Rahnel]

For the best that the barb had been directed upon his own deity; at least initially. He knew firsthand that Itra would be terror stricken by nearly anything not of mortal essence. Already, he had seen Her panic and fear before the presence of another deity. Yet Lyssia continued to prattle on about other gods, and from her sweeping generalization it was clear she cared not to which pantheon or religion they belonged. To her, all entities were clearly beneath this arcane force deemed divine by her. She called it ‘the Primm’, he called it ‘heka’ and others simply referred to it as magic’s source. While aware and in awe of the very force, he hardly considered it to be godly – for the very reasons he had explicitly stated during his outburst. This force carried neither thought nor action, and gave preference to naught at all in its indifference.

If it did carry sentience it might be a deity above all, sure – but what of it? If he had wings, he might be a bird; a comparison he considered just as sensible. Of no use to regard things by qualities they lacked, he felt. Though he had to regard her view of it as keystone to all which is arcane as apt; he too recognized the delicate balance that must be kept in check. Such was a matter for the gods anyhow, wasn't it?

Ultimately, the disagreement appeared to be one that boiled down to definition; she didn’t seem to care whether a divine was an entity or a thing. Foolish that she denied the true divine, the caretakers of the world; but perhaps Lyssia based her idea of gods from Celestialist fables. Perhaps he couldn’t fault her for her attitude, were it the case. The notion of it at least made it easier for Kiros to quell his ire, regretful to have ever broached the topic with a monotheist.

But her tone changed quite noticeably on turning to the next topic. Whatever theological bitterness he had perceived gave way to a more muted manner of speech. He looked at her, indignation likewise faded from his expression. Taken aback by the unexpected confession, he thought to her former inquiry of murder.

The connection was made in an instant. No, she didn't outright claim it, yet the implication seemed clear to him. He could not fault her for refraining from explicit confession; he had just done the same himself. Nonetheless, the notion of keeping company with a murderer was unsettling, despite the fact he stood charged with the same. The view was nothing but hypocrisy, he knew, and the realization redirected his ire inward for holding such judgement. She seemed as regretful as he was. A murderer she might be, but a monster she clearly was not.

“And you know of how such matters are, with such consequences following upon each step.” he replied in a tone far more soft and subtle as well.

“It seems like we might be borne from similar situation.” he added, in his own attempt to make admission to his own status as murderer.

 

[Lyssia D'avore]

"I didn't kill anyone," she said coldly. "I did not plot to, have a hand in any part of that despicable plot. I do not know how it is within a priesthood, but among the nobility? Politicking and back-stabbing are very nearly sport." Did she sound a little bitter at that? She did, and she did not like it. It made her a little angry to recall all that she had pushed down for so long.

She cast a sidelong look at Kiros, and shook her head. He was a foreigner, and couldn't know. "You are an outsider," she said as a statement of fact. There was no question there. "So you wouldn't know. My mother was accused of sedition and high treason against the Dynast - our ruler. Mother was a Bursar of one of the provinces of Erdeniin. In the trial, evidence was brought against her showing collusion with Obanese malefactors." Her voice was winter itself, thinking of all the events surrounding that. The shattering of the front door as the Guard and Imperial army stormed the manor, as the servants were marched out and she and her family with them. In the dead of night, with no chance to even get dressed.

"The sentence was as expected," she said. There was fury in her voice, buried but very shallow. "Mother was...was executed, after having her title stripped and her possessions forfeited to the Dynast. Father was exiled, and I...." Her fists tightened until the knuckles went white.

"They just left me here. In the streets, with nowhere to go and en entire city turned against me for the crimes of my mother. Crimes she did not commit." A single hot tear welled and spilled down a cheek, but it was not one of sorrow. It was one of impotent rage, and her face was a mask of the fiery fury that boiled within. "That was a year and a half ago. You can see how well I've managed since," she practically hissed. Their situations were radically different. Had to be; no one should have to endure what she had.

 

[Kiros Rahnel]

“Where I am from, such is way of life.” She was from her words and tone not a murderer, and viewed the act with disdain. But even if she had, who was he to judge? She was correct about the nature of political backstabbing, such was so ingrained in the Kaliti way that he’d assumed similar terms had led to her situation. That fateful day he returned to the temple, he held discovery that would’ve propelled him up the ranks of the priesthood – had it not been learned of by others. But they were dead now, and he was the criminal held responsible for tit. Of regret that he kept his discovery; it had become a burdensome curse that seemed without an end.

“I was naught more than priest in a smaller town. I’d made discovery that might have allowed my promotion. Others found my notes, and In Amol-Kalit many are desperate to get ahead. It was confrontation, and I was given implicit choice; to be dead, or become heretic.” He stopped short of expressing his own regret at heresy, doubting such explanation would have any impact on a non-believer. Had he accepted his death back then, he believed, he’d at least be in the Astral Valley now. An afterlife he now doubted he would ever see.

“There was no trial; I simply fled.” He uttered words quieter than his last, speaking them quickly so as to get the shameful sentence past his lips. His tone and expression were in contrast to hers; where he felt regret, she spoke with bitter anger. He had a hand in the events that lead to his outcome, unwilling as he was he remained a participant in it. Lyssia on the other hand spoke of a storm that flashed around her and upturned her life and of outcome that remained similar; neither he nor she would enjoy status among nobility. Though he noted one difference; she was not marked for death.

“An entire kingdom calls for my head. It has been fifteen years as pauper in disguise.” With message of his presence given to the priesthood, it was a looming and glaring difference that hung over his head. They both wanted different things; he wanted salvation, and she restoration. He had no clue how to achieve his own ends. But there must be a reason she remained, and curiosity picked at him until the next sentence left his lips.

“Clearly. But yet you remain in Dornoch, seeking a way to clear her name?” He inquired. Perhaps she had a plan to do exactly that. Or perhaps she was lost and hopeless without any true grasp of a solution; such would be one more aspect in common with him

 

[Lyssia D'avore]

She was silent for a while, the moment pregnant with uncertainty. Finally, she looked away, and sighed. "I do not know why I am here, still," she admitted. It was a heavy thing to admit, like some dark secret. She simply could not see herself leaving the place of her birth, the center of what power she'd had before.

"I guess clearing my family name would bring some degree of closure," she said in a neutral tone. What she said next, though, was far from neutral. "But what drives me more is to find the hand that guides this miss, and then deal with them once and for all." There was a dangerous edge to her voice, a healthy undercurrent of anger. It was clear that she had nothing but ill intentions for whoever was responsible for this mess.

"It sounds like Amol Kalit and the ruling class of Erdeniin have much in common," she replied, a touch of the heat still in her voice. "But how much effort are they really willing to expend on one man?" As though she had considered that question in regards to herself, because she hadn't. She thought that the city would desire nothing more than to erase her, but she was nothing to it, and refused to see it so.

 

[Kiros Rahnel]

He had guessed right, mostly; thought it was an easy guess for him to make, and hers was a position he could identify with. Amol-Kalit held nothing for him, not without the proper title of priest, and especially not given his status as wanted murderer. And whether or not it was murder hinged not on the actions he had taken, but the social stature of the event’s participants. That they both outranked him and perished in the altercation implied Kiros’ legal guilt, from what he recalled of Kaliti justice from decades past. There was no need or benefit in attending trial that would doubtlessly be a farce. Execution would be the simplest way Amol-Kalit could deal with him, and he felt certain that they would.

“To set matters right again and undo the damage brought.” he commented. He had his own further, theological reasons for his fret; one he still doubted she'd understand. He was separated from his own church, denied the promised salvation he had always expected to be present before the very event sent his life in wayward direction. He had no clue where to even begin with such a matter, and her solution seemed more accessible. Sound enough reasoning, were he in her position he doubted he'd feel much different abut the matter.

“I’ve found they are in most lands. I thought our own ways were violent and cut-throat, once; but it merely seems the way of the world. I find the only difference is that Amol-Kalit does little to hide or curb this nature.” he responded. Once young and rosy-eyed, he’d hoped greed and treachery would be far less common than in his homeland; and for a time it seemed so. But all he’d concluded was that most, if not all kingdoms were ran much the same; sworn to uphold virtue while acting in it’s subversion behind the scenes. It didn't take long for optimism to turn to pessimistic realism; no matter where he roamed, mortal nature seemed the same.

Her last question however made him give a pause for a second; partly to prepare a response, and partly to quell his own morbid musing of his own fate.

“I doubt they've expended any since it was clear I've been missing. I further doubt the priesthood would forget such a matter; and no effort is required to capture trapped prey.”

 

[Lyssia D'avore]

"That isn't true," she said rather forcefully. "It isn't the lands, its the people."

She stood, and moved about the room with the smooth grace of someone accustomed to a ballgown and being in the presence of courtiers, not priests. "Erdeniin stands for her people," she began. It was a fervent tone of voice, one might expect it to come from a preacher to his flock. "The law is harsh here, but it is upheld equally for all. The high are held more strictly to account than the low are."

A law was a law, and none were immune to it. There were certainly dissidents that thought that the aristocracy could buy their way out of breaking laws, but the truth was that when nobles were caught doing things that were illegal, they were often punished far, far more harshly than the common woman would be. Things that might warrant time spent chained in a jail cell for a commoner might warrant stripping of titles from a high-born citizen or, worse, a trip to the gallows or the axe.

That had little to do with the viciousness within the aristocracy, though. The Dynast encouraged these games, she was sure of it; there was no room in Erdeniin for someone too weak to serve the Dynast and her people. The weak were eaten alive, and only the strong, the smart, and the resourceful remained.

She drifted from that topic of conversation, though. She did not think that Kiros truly understood what she meant by seeking out the culprit that brought about this whole bout of trouble. She would kill whoever it was with her own two hands, and relish it.

"You are only trapped if you allow yourself to be," she said in a low voice. She herself hadn't given up and curled up to die, much to the chagrin of those who moved in the shadows. She was still very much alive, and very much wished to find those very individuals. "You just need to come up with a plan to escape, is all."

 

[Kiros Rahnel]

He raised his eyebrow at her correction but simply stared silent, looking back upon her with a stifled glare. While he held onto religion desperately out of hope, he had long since done away with the attachments to homeland and namesake that Lyssia still seemed to bear. That she would defend a system that he had assumed maligned her caught him off guard, and from her shift in tone he now expected to hear some sort of spoken justification for why her kingdom was superiort. Belief in such may as well be requirement for nobility. Though he could only judge so much, having considered himself little better decades past when he still carried such a noble title himself.

He had clearly been erroneous in the assumed rationale for the comparison between both lands. As disdainful as hearing her prattle on about the Erdeniin was, it raised questions about her own predicament. If she held that this city was just, then what was there to correct? He mused over this as he reviewed her answer in his mind. He then paused for a moment in realization that she spoke of dealing with matters, not correcting them. Morbid curiosity for further detail however was promptly abandoned when she continued onto a separate topic. Probably for the best; there might be some matters it would be better not to know more of.

“And what of the Erdeniin? Will they not give pursuit?” he remarked. If he was to risk making himself enemy of yet another kingdom, at least he could do so with planning and foresight this time. Escaping too would require a careful plan of action; simply fleeing through the gates would be clearly inadequate. What magic he had looked to be of limited use towards the goal. Though he might bother to pray for help, that option was considered an absolute last resort, at best.

But there would be time to figure matters out; at least he had ample warning to act on. Her advice was sensible, though her tone sounded odd. Influenced by what he could only assume were the plans for her own situation held in mind; not that he expended much curiosity on the specifics.