Completed The Noblest of Deeds

[Kristen Pirian]

Berj went recoiling back through the air, clearly surprised not only by the runesaber but that he had been struck. He steadied himself near the broken gates, looking at his arm, the sleeve of his robe torn open and blood oozing out onto blackened flesh like lava flowing over igneous rock.

"There is hope yet for this generation of Dreadlords," Berj said, mildly impressed but also with a heavier note of grudging admittance for this. Then a smirk flickered beneath his mask, "Pity it will be extinguished regardless."

Kristen recovered enough from the putrid gas to refocus on Berj. She locked eyes on his floating form and set her mind to malice and began to shape a Curse, "Ineptitude numbs your fingers and absconds with your prowess."

Berj looked to her and his eyes shimmered brilliantly and he invoked a powerful arcane word, accompanied with incredibly precise movements of his offhand. Kristen doubled over as if physically kicked in the gut, heaving, the Counterspell striking down her Curse before it could truly manifest.

This, however, consumed precious seconds of his time, and Berj could not make an offensive move yet.

Alistair Krixus

 

[Alistair Krixus]

With rune-enhanced speed, Alistair once more dove into Berj's range aiming another slice at the same arm. However, this time Berj was dodge the strike, not risking an attempt at blocking such an unfamiliar weapon. Alistair and Berj traded several strikes, but Berj seemed to be able to dodge out of the way at the last second.

For a moment it seemed like Alistair was beginning to regain the upper hand. Sadly, Alistair realized Berj was simply getting a read on Alistair's style and rhythm. Now that he no was no longer underestimating the initiate, he was not inclined to give Alistair any more chances.

With a sudden and ferocious swing downward, Berj brought his mace hard down onto Alistair's left forearm. It would have been his face if he did not bring his arm up to block. Even with the runes reinforcing his body, the mace still broke through his defenses.

Alistair stifled a growl of pain as he stepped back. He had heard a crack during the attack, his bracer was not only broken, but it seemed likely at least one bone in his forearm was broken.

Kristen Pirian

 

[Kristen Pirian]

Berj was a terrifying spectacle to behold. Alistair possessed formidable skill in swordsmanship, eclipsing what meager practice Kristen had gotten in with Graham and Zael, and Berj simply went through their exchanges as if he'd done this exact fight hundreds of times.

Standing up straight again, Kristen winced and then openly gasped as she heard the low and quiet crack in Alistair's arm. She couldn't help it. She cried out his name, "Alistair!"

No holding back. She had given her promise. And now while there was a moment of separation between Alistair and Berj, the latter still occupied with the former, she ought to unleash an Impaler. Do as much damage in the quickest manner possible to Berj. She had practiced the spell a fair amount once she and Alistair had returned from the Blightlands, and she felt confident enough to try for it now.

Kristen thrust out porcelain hand. Coordinated her sight of Berj with the ground beneath him. Set her will and intention. Divine Magic manifested in her, the plea to Aionus a wordless envoy projected from her mind and her heart—

But she was too slow.

Berj casually dodged to one side as the Impaler burst up from the ground and skewered the stone ceiling of the gateway tunnel. He flew rapidly over to Kristen, closing the gap between them in the blink of an eye, and with his free hand he snatched her by the neck and lifted her high up off the ground. She gripped at his hand with her own, tried to strike him with her sword but he smacked it from her grasp.

"Pestilence: pneumonia," he said.

And his magic began to seep into her as she gagged and choked from his grip.

Alistair Krixus

 

[Alistair Krixus]

The pain coming from his left arm was enough to make a normal man pass out. To a Dreadlord, this was just another day. That still did not stop from it hurting to all hell and back.

Now wasn't the time to complain about a small injury. Kristen was in serious trouble, and they were barely hanging onto this fight.

"Hey, I'll take that hand!"

A rune appeared beneath Alistair's right foot, and as soon as he stepped forward he was launched through the air at incredible speed. It wasn't flighted like Berj, as those spells were incredibly difficult to control for Alistair at this stage in his career, but this was throwing him forward even faster than Berj could move.

Alistair slashed at the arm gripping Kristen. He had thought he would be able to cut it off altogether, but Berj was still too fast. Still, he was forced to release Kristen and he would not be holding onto that mace with that hand anymore.

Mission success, but one problem with launching oneself at incredible speed in a small enclosed gate entrance. He had no way of stopping in time. Instead, he was forced to a stop as his body slammed into a wall. He thought a rib crack, but he was hoping that was his imagination.

Kristen Pirian

 

[Kristen Pirian]

Kristen heard Berj grunt and then he let go. Away went that horrid, cold, moist feel of his hand, away went the slimy feel of his magic invading her flesh. Only a small dose, but if he had her for a few seconds more? She shuddered to think of it.

Kristen's feet hit the ground first and then her rear end. She stopped herself from falling completely over onto her back with a supporting hand. A loud thud came from somewhere behind her and to the right: Alistair. Her heart sank with worry but her mind remained in command.

Berj's free arm was injured now. Blood ran openly at his wrist, and he scowled at it.

No time to waste. Kristen recited a quick verse, and then a Chain burst up from the ground at Berj's feet. Quick and agile this single Chain, and it managed to ensnare Berj's ankle. He hovered back and the Chain was dragged along with him, kicking up two little tides of dirt in the ground. Berj made no face as to whether the Chain's withering effect weakened him much or at all. Mayhap with time? Maybe he was hiding it well?

Berj flung his hands (his left one limp) out to his side. Putrid green energy coursed down his arms and outward. He spoke his sickly words, "Devour them."

Conjured swarms of beetles came into being from nothing, crawling up from the ground and out from the tiny nooks and crevices of the gateway tunnel and emerging from anywhere the shadows were deep and dark enough. A vast army of them, seeming to thrust the ground and the walls and the ceiling all into insectile motion.

Kristen gave a gasp of horror, and scrambled up to her feet.

Alistair Krixus

 

[Alistair Krixus]

Alistair gasped, pushing himself to his feet and back to focus on the fight at hand. He turned to find that Kristen had managed to wrap a chain around Berj, but he now had an army of beetles, so...even trade?

Once again, Alistair had very few broad-reaching spells to handle such an army, and the ones he did have were for absolutely desperate situations. That left with Alistair only one choice.

He charged with the runesaber, aiming to bypass the horde of bugs and go straight for their master. It should be easy, just a quick step through the swarm, maybe even stomping on a few, and then he would be in front of Berj.

Except these were no ordinary beetles, as soon as he stepped foot in the swarm, he was surrounded and the bugs that did bite him were strong. He was stopped in place but only for a second, but that was all the time they needed. Hundreds, if not thousands, of beetles swarmed over his body. The bit and clipped at him not enough to do life-threatening damage by themselves, but the sheer number was enough to cause him great pain.

To make matters worse, the weight of the bug that had made it to his shoulders became to much and force him to one knee. He was now entirely covered, one hand free to reach up out of the pile of bugs.

Kristen Pirian

 

[Kristen Pirian]

Alistair went charging ahead, and in that moment Kristen was sublimely struck by his tenacity and bravery, gaping in awe. She had heard his bones break, she had heard him slam into the wall, and she had watched him go toe-to-toe with Berj and be bested in the exchange. And yet none of this stopped him. Not even the terrifying and nauseating sight of the hundreds—thousands—of ravenous beetles deterred him. He was no powerhouse of destruction like some of their peers, no bastion of nigh impervious defense like others, and yet all the same he threw himself into battle against a superior enemy without reservation. And there Alistair had claim to a courage many of their peers could never know.

Kristen did not know that she was blushing profusely as she watched.

Yet even courage had its limits. Berj's magic, his legion of summoned nightmarish beetles, fell upon him with a ferocity no normal insect would possess. Kristen drew in a shuddering gasp. A potent fear the likes of which she had only felt a few times before pulsed in agonizing waves from her heart. No, no, NO!

She had to clear her mind. To set her will and intention. She had but one thing she could try against such a massive swarm of creatures, and summoning an Ashen Crucifix inside of a confined space with a ceiling was always more difficult than summoning one outside.

Kristen recited her verse, and then, utterly impassioned, shouted with all her might, "I AM THE HERALD OF THE HOLY SENTINEL, HE WHOSE DOMAIN IS TIME ITSELF! LO, TIME IS THE SLAYER OF ALL, AND THY DEATH COMES!"

An Ashen Crucifix burst into being inside of the gateway tunnel, the effigy so tall that it reached from the ground to the stony ceiling, its embers illuminating the whole of the tunnel in an ominous orange glow. Chittering came from the beetles, and the entire swarm fled like a singular wave away from the Crucifix. Vogel's men on the outside of the broken gates all backed up in a hurried panic as the beetles scurried in their direction to escape.

Berj himself laid eyes on the Crucifix, and its magic viciously fell upon that deep-seated fear of mortality. No, no, my pestilence, my decay...it will turn on me...I can inflict it on my foes but I cannot save myself from it...I've always known this!...there is no escape...there is no place to run...death comes from within...its blossom green and putrid...I'll bring it on myself in the end...my own magic will turn on me!

Berj, shaking and shuddering, fell from his levitation, his feet touching the ground. Horrified eyes stared through the ground, his mace slipped from his grip and with his sole working hand he clutched at his temple and mumbled his fearful thoughts aloud.

He was wracked with fear. An opening like none other thus far.

Alistair Krixus

 

[Alistair Krixus]

This was a complete an utter nightmare. Alistair had been afraid to drown, like many others when he was young, but that was before he was taught to swim and those fears had largely been defeated as a result. Those fears were returning with the very real possibility that he was about to drown, not in water but in bugs.

He clawed at the wave with fury, but it was useless. Then, like Dreadlord Noah parting the Baal-Asha river, a crucifix appeared parting the beetles around him. Standing in the center of that crucifix was Kristen, probably the most beautiful image he had even seen, for that moment. Of course, that beauty and sanctuary came with an overwhelming since of dread.

Even though Alistair knew this was Kristen's magic, it was still difficult to resist it. Much like everyone else around him, invasive thoughts popped into his mind.

How could he hope to defeat Berj, even subdued like this? He was just an initiate and a weak one at that. He was nothing special like Kristen, Edric, or Ralene. Everything about him, even his magical talents had been manufactured from years of planning by a father that viewed him as nothing more than a tool.

These thoughts unceasingly assaulted his confidence, but Alistair gritted his teeth down hard, enough that he swore he heard a tooth crack and blood was tasted in his mouth.

What did any of that matter? It did not matter if he was special. He was here. That meant it was either live or die. Feeling sorry or afraid would get him nowhere. He only lived if he won, so he would win.

Alistair gripped the runesaber that had fallen next to him. Once again, a rune appeared beneath his boot that launched him forward. This rune was followed quickly by the mirage rune that made Alistair's image shimmer before splitting into four images of the initiate. Another rune flared, creating three magical bolts of energy that blended themselves into the illusions of Alistair. Now, if the illusions were ignored then they would still do harm to the target. It was a perfect combo.

Berj, for all of his opening, still managed to put up some defense, intercepting two of the Alistairs...He chose wrong. Alistair appeared in front of Berj for only an instant but brought the runesaber's magical blade perfectly across the Dreadlord's entire chest.

The rune continuously carried Alistair past him, but this time he managed to stop himself from slamming into a wall. He turned to Berj with ragged breath and grinned in triumph,

"I told you, you would hope for Saydorr."

With that, Berj's body fell to the ground lifeless.

Kristen Pirian

 

[Kristen Pirian]

Kristen wasn't in a position to capitalize on Berj's fear. The best would have been to try for another Impaler, praying that she didn't fumble the spell or that Berj didn't sense its manifestation and evade it.

She wasn't in that position. But Alistair was.

The exchange was fast. Berj, a formidable foe, pushed through the effects of Kristen's magic, both her Crucifix and her Chain, to mount even then a talented defense; dizzying worry swirled inside of Kristen's head when she saw Berj straight up and prepare said defense. Alistair, though, unleashed a calculated offense on multiple fronts with his illusions.

He landed past Berj. Turned. Spoke.

And Kristen saw it then, the little glittering embers cut in a diagonal line across Berj's chest and the curtain of blood drawing itself down from the mortal wound. Berj was still making a face, a mixture of disbelief and lingering terror, as he fell. This expression stayed frozen upon his visage as he lay still.

A booming cheer rose from Walter's men on the one side of the gateway tunnel.

Kristen bent and recovered her sword. She coughed, a liquid sound, and a small splotch of phlegm hit the ground—courtesy of what pestilent magic of Berj's did seep into her. In times other this she would have been extremely embarrassed, yet the tide of adrenaline and rush of battle precluded it.

She moved over towards Alistair as the Crucifix crumbled behind her. Stood beside him. Held her sword up and at the ready as Vogel's troops, clearly afraid and demoralized after seeing their Dreadlord defeated, nevertheless arrange themselves back into formation. Still, they were wary, and did yet approach.

"Stay back," Kristen warned. "Stay. Back."

Alistair Krixus

 

[Alistair Krixus]

Alistair stood in triumph with a grin on his face, but...he couldn't move. His legs were completely out of energy. Any sort of attempt to move would have just meant falling flat on his face. The force of those burst runes on his legs was something his body was not supposed to be able to handle more than once and he had gone and done it twice.

It wasn't just the legs, his entire body still stung from the beetles biting at him. He was completely exhausted, and yet here they were standing between Vogel and Banick's armies.

Hopefully, Kristen was faring better than him, but she was likely tired too. Still, they had given so much to win that fight. They could not let it go to waste now. The runesaber blade detracted into the hilt, but he made sure to leave the hilt visible to the enemy. Then, he forced the grin to stay on his face and he called out in a ragged breath.

"Alright...Who's next?"

They were just regular soldiers, but there were hundreds. Vogel certainly had more Dreadlords. Would they have to fight them, also? Alistair was not sure that would be possible. Well, if they had to die, at least they took one Dreadlord out with them.

Kristen Pirian

 

[Kristen Pirian]

The sergeant at the head of the formation was steeling himself, looking from Kristen to Alistair. He held up his hand, preparing to give his order.

"Men," he said, and then took in a big gulp of air to bellow, "ATTA—!"

Whistles suddenly blew from deep in the field outside of Ostia Anir. Several more whistles blew across all those reserves of soldiers, and then several more all along the base of the wall. The sergeant at the head of the formation looked immensely relieved, and then he produced his own whistle and blew it and he and his men began to cautiously back away.

Kristen blinked. Held her breath. Dared to hope.

Alistair Krixus

 

[Logan Banick]

"Arrest that man," Vogel said dismissively.

"YOU MUST READ IT!" the Messenger pleaded, holding out the sealed missive toward the Commander. Several soldiers were holding him back. Nobles from the Banick encampment were likewise being held back.

"And I will," Vogel said, holding his spyglass back up to his eye and surveying the battle along the walls. "Once Ostia Anir is back under Republic control."

Logan Banick had enough. He shoved the young, recently enlisted soldier roughly enough to send the boy onto his rear; a small price, and one the boy might remember in the years to come. Logan snatched the missive out of the Messenger's hands. The sound of swords being drawn then as Logan stormed toward Vogel, soldiers rushing after him.

But Logan managed to grab one of Vogel's arms and shove the missive into his hand. Vogel, wide-eyed with a certain level of craven fright, stared back at him. One of the soldiers pressed a sword against Logan's neck but he disregarded it. Somewhere behind him, Theodore protested loudly.

"Break the seal," Logan said in a low and forceful tone, "and read the missive. Commander."

A moment of stillness. Along the walls, the clashing of steel and the cries of the unfortunate wounded and the soon to be dead. In the gateway tunnel, Berj had just been fatally struck by Alistair's runesaber.

Vogel tried to regain a measure of dignity. He straightened himself up, accepted the missive fully from Logan, and said, "Very well."

Elite soldiers held Logan at their mercy, the sharp steel of that sword against his neck dangerously gracing his skin. One word from Vogel and his head would be separated from his shoulders.

But Vogel broke the wax seal of the missive and opened it and slowly his eyes poured over it. And, slowly, his assured expression began to melt. Melt and melt like thawing ice under the sun's ceaseless gaze. The spyglass he had pinched between his fingers fell from his grasp. The color drained from his face.

"Call off the attack," he said, barely a whisper.

His second-in-command looked bemused. "Sir?"

"C-Call off the attack, godsdamn you!"

The grips of the soldiers loosened, and the sword gently removed itself from Logan's neck. He smiled.

And witnessed firsthand a man reckoning with the beginning of his inevitable and deserved ruin.

 

[Kristen Pirian]

They were. They were!

Vogel's men weren't just pulling back from the gates. Her ears did not deceive her in the slightest: yes, the clamor of battle had died down, no more metal-on-metal, no more battlecries, none of it. Beyond the broken gates, it was the sound of a measured withdrawal, boots of hundreds of men abandoning the fight and returning to their positions in their siege encampment.

"By Aionus. By Aionus! Alistair!"

Overjoyed, Kristen dropped her sword and just threw herself at him, laughing high giddy laughs and wrapping her arms firmly around him. Awareness of his ribs had unfortunately been swept under the tide of her euphoria, and she didn't know about the unsteadiness of his legs.

Even if they fell to the ground, she didn't much care.

Alistair Krixus

 

[Alistair Krixus]

The sound of boots first made Alistair worry that reinforcements were coming to Vogel's men, only to proven the opposite as they started to back away. They were retreating, actually retreating. A wave of relief washed over him, as for the first time, their success was assured. No more war-mongering commanders or assassins, they had crossed the finish line and it was done. That wave of relief washed away any worries or concerns he had, but it also washed away any bit of adrenaline he had yet.

His legs would have given out from under him right there, but they never had the chance as he was hugged to the ground by Kristen. There was no resistance his legs put up, even if they could.

Instead, he just pulled her into a tight hug. His ribs, screaming in pain, were momentarily forgotten. His runesaber dropped to the ground beside him. The smile was back on his face and for the first time since his father's death, he laughed. A pure and wonderful laugh, not held back by any sense of demeanor or consideration. It was a symbol of Alistair's pure and joyous relief and happiness.

The exhaustion that coursed through his brain made it difficult to come up with any normally calculated plans for what needed to be done next, that usually followed Alistair. If it was not for the excitement, and still pointed pain of his broken rib and Kristen's hug then he probably would have passed out.

Instead, he looked to Kristen with a smile without thinking about it leaned in, and kissed her to cap off this perfect victory.

Of course, he quickly pulled away as calculating Alistair poked through just long enough to look sheepish with a slight blush and say,

"Um, sorry about that...I think I'm going to pass out."

Kristen Pirian

 

[Kristen Pirian]

They fell, and Kristen gave out a small yelp of surprise and then the giddy laugh of one involved in some slapstick pratfall. Her joy at the victory could not be eclipsed.

Celebration was breaking out among Walter's formation just beyond the gateway tunnel, men crying out and thrusting their fists rhythmically into the air and rattling their weapons against their armor, their shields. Similar cheers were going up above them, all along the length of the wall.

And then something extraordinary happened: Alistair hugged her back.

And then something even more extraordinary happened: he smiled at her, not in a perfunctory or cordial manner, but with genuine, heartfelt joy.

And then something even more extraordinary happened: he kissed her. Supreme surprise took hold of her at first, and before she was consciously aware that she liked it, before she could truly kiss him back, he pulled away. Alistair's was a slight blush, but Kristen's was a forest fire ablaze across her cheeks.

Um, sorry about that...I think I'm going to pass out.

His injuries. His bones. Reality intruded to spoil a wonderful thing.

"O-Oh, yes, right, of course!"

She sat up. Still straddling him without yet the solid awareness that she was doing so.

"Walter!" she called out. "We need a healer! An apothecary! A doctor!"

Then she looked back down to him.

"You're going to be fine."

Touched his cheek with her flesh and blood hand.

"Just fine."

Alistair Krixus

 

[Alistair Krixus]

What had Alistair just done? He had just kissed one of the scions of House Pirian. No consent, nothing. He had just kissed her. She had every right to punch him, or maybe she would have him killed later.

Thankfully, Alistair did not have long to sit...or lay in his embarrassment as the darkness in the corners of his vision grew wide and enveloped him. The last memory he had was Kristen straddling him...oh his ribs.

***********************​

Had Alistair died? No that wasn't possible, they had just won that battle. Oh no, what if he died succumbing to injuries after the battle? He would not even get the chance to enjoy his victory. Those were the inner thoughts of a man who was too tired to realize he was moving his toes.

His eyes shot open followed quickly by his attempt to sit up, but he was forced to stop quickly as a sharp pain shot through his chest. His ribs were still sore and his forearm.

Alistair had half expected to wake up at the gate where he had passed out, surrounded by the army and Kristen. Instead, he found himself in a comfy bed. His armor and shirt had been removed and replaced by bandages. It was obvious that the healers had already worked on him given that his injuries were feeling a lot better. The remaining pain and bruises were just the price one paid for battle.

Now more aware of his injures and situation, Alistair slowly tried to sit up in his seat. While they had won, Alistair had been far too reckless with some of his attacks. He would need to be more careful, he could not go injuring himself every time he had to face another Dreadlord.

Kristen Pirian

 

[Kristen Pirian]

Something of a dilemma. A dilemma of grim character to expedite the gradual fall from the dizzying peaks of euphoria with their victory in Ostia Anir.

Drastus. The mission to Tyr had come back to the Academy one short, and it was him. When she asked about him, about what happened, the answer she received slammed into her like a savage blow to the stomach: he perished on the mission. She didn't believe it. She refused to believe it. But where was he, after all this time? She held out hope. She held on to hope even now. But if her hope was so strong, why did sorrow haunt her powerfully in the dead of night, robbing restful sleep and replacing it with an agony of tears?

She had enjoyed Alistair's brief kiss. But she was in a difficult position, one of interminable unknowing (or perhaps, she feared, prolonged disbelief). She may have wanted to return Alistair's gesture in kind when it happened, yet ultimately she was just not ready.

Kristen would cling to her hope until her fateful return to Vel Numera during the Harvest Festival, where finally she would be forced to accept the grim truth in total. She knew not yet that this would be when acceptance would fall upon her like a hammerblow, and that, after the pain was done, she would move on.

Presently, she waited inside her and Alistair's room at the Lessat and Pneria Inn. Inns, homes, dock warehouses, the Canal Tenements, any place that was not ravaged by Caern Reedus's artillery was being used to house the wounded from the battle. Apothecary stores had been emptied to help craft potions and elixirs to treat injuries. Two empty bottles were on the end table beside Alistair's bed. A bucket was beside Kristen's bed, for the phlegm she had been hacking up the past few hours thanks to the slight infusion of pneumonia from Berj.

Kristen was sitting up in her own bed, reading her book of verses (thankfully recovered from the wreckage of the Banick Estate) in the afternoon sunlight spilling in through the window. She looked across the room when she saw Alistair sit up.

"Good afternoon," Kristen said, shutting the book and placing it aside. She stood and walked over a touch meekly to his bed, looking as well a little fever-ridden. "Your poor ribs keep suffering the worst."

Alistair Krixus

 

[Alistair Krixus]

"No, they are doing much better. Thanks for looking after me."

It was a little awkward given that the last thing he remembered was that kiss...and the straddling. Best to just drop that until she decided to bring it up.

He noticed the two bottles of potions and wondered just how long he had been unconscious. He tried to adjust himself and winced at some of the pain, but still forced a small smile to his lips. It was clear that she was also still recovering from the fight. The 'Master of Decay' had a magic that could linger even after death. She needed rest just as much as he did.

"How are you feeling?"

Well, she has been reading her book in bed when he awoke and was now checking on him, so obviously not bad enough to be too worried. That was a dumb question, Alistair.

For all of his worry about Kristen, he could not help but wonder what had happened with Walter and the rest of the army. Was Vogel arrested? It was a shame that he did not get to see the look on the man's face when he realized he lost.

Kristen Pirian

 

[Kristen Pirian]

"A little gross," Kristen answered truthfully with a wry smile. "Berj's sickness began to truly afflict me, however mildly, about an hour after you passed out. Though the apothecary said that within another day or two I shall be well."

What a disaster it would have been if Berj's sickness had took firm hold sooner, ruining the moment through some embarrassing means.

She sat down on the edge of his bed. "I do have some news, but first, there is something—"

(somethings)

"—I wanted to say."

Kristen looked down at her porcelain hand. Cupped it gently at the wrist, flexing the smooth, adamantine-infused fingers. "I spoke harshly to the assassin earlier today. Such was necessary, or so I felt at the time. Yet I worry that in brandishing my hand in such a manner and speaking so of it, my words may have cut into not just him, and may have cast a false impression of how I feel about my artificial hand."

She reached over hand touched her porcelain hand to Alistair's leg. "This is a gift unlike any other I have ever received. 'Tis so that it holds a deep significance with me, and to me serves as a constant reminder of your kindness."

She smiled, radiating warmth.

"You are a rare treasure among the Academy, Alistair."

Alistair Krixus

 

[Alistair Krixus]

Alistair was relieved that she was ok and moved to adjust himself again, but quickly tensed up when she mentioned needing to speak on something. Instantly, a conversation passed through his head of Kristen verbally thrashing him at his audacity for what had been done after the battle. Had his hands always been this sweaty?

It came with some relief followed quickly by guilt when he realized what she was talking about. The assassin, and the comment she made, it was true. Those words had stung even though he knew she meant well by them.

When Alistair finally met her eyes, he had a soft smile on his face. He was happy for the warm praise, but his eyes could not hide some of the sadness.

That hand was a work of art, but it was a shame the only reason it was a welcome gift, to begin with, was because of what he had done to her. It was he who took away her hand and caused all that pain, who made her go through all the effort to learn how to use the prosthetic. He had even made her slightly dependent on him.

He knew what Kristen was saying was genuine because that was just who she was, but it still did not stop the thoughts of how he had taken away something so important.

"I-" He froze as he paused to make sure whatever he said was the correct thing to say.

"Thank you, Kristen. For all that you have said, and your friendship which has been a warm beacon in dark times."

The words sounded nice, but a part of him thought they sounded too nice, too scripted. It was a shame that he could not even carefully think about his words without Alistair being ashamed of them. This was the part of him that the Dreadlords had created. If everything he did was calculated and thought out, then was any of it genuine? Was the kiss? Or had he simply taken advantage of Kristen, once again, during a highly emotional moment? He was afraid to decide upon the answer.

Kristen Pirian

 

[Kristen Pirian]

Kristen flushed, touched by Alistair's elegant response. Usually he was so direct and ungarnished with his speech that such words he spoke now made a greater impact.

Then a little internal torment. Something she wanted to say; somethings she wanted to say. Should she...be forward about it? How she felt when Alistair kissed her? Be forward about her present reservations, and holding out hope (or, as she was fearing more and more, clinging to disbelief)? Maybe to him it was nothing. Surely it was nothing, just caught up in the moment was all, same as her. But what if it wasn't? Wasn't simply nothing? Should she bring it up? Would she ruin what they presently had if she did and it was simply nothing?

She decided on something of a middle ground. A bit too nervous to address it forthrightly, yet not letting it go completely abandoned. And, as it so happened, a perfect way to respond to his warm words.

Kristen leaned over and kissed Alistair on the cheek. Pulled back and, even though it was ostensibly only a friendly gesture, felt a rising heat in her cheeks.

"You're very sweet."

She had to force herself to move on.

"So, Theodore Banick is downstairs. He, along with a great many Banicks, wished to commend us personally, and he was waiting merely for you to be roused. Shall I send for him?"

Alistair Krixus

 

[Alistair Krixus]

Alistair's mind was a mess of emotions right now, compared to his usually calm and logical persona. This was horrible. What was the point of stuff like this if it just turned you into an idiot?

It was clear Kristen was not doing well either. She was probably just trying to think of a way to speak with him nicely without insulting him. She was too nice, he would have almost preferred if she just yelled at him and got it over with.

The next part was even more confusing, an equal mix of no and maybe yes. It felt more like a no, but that could just be Alistair's bias. A light kiss on the cheek, like one, might give a small child to make them feel better...She was blushing, or maybe her face was red with anger.

Alistair just looked downwards focusing on his injuries, and graciously accepted the change of subject.

"Oh, yes. I am ready."

He quickly reached out for a free shirt, but winced from the pain, and had to go slower to grab garments to cover his injuries.

Kristen Pirian

 

[Kristen Pirian]

Kristen smiled.

"Very well."

And she rose from the bed and shuffled over to the door, opening it. On the other side, standing like a sentry, was a Banick bannerman still clad in his full plate armor, speckles of blood dotting it from the battle. She told him that they were ready, and the bannerman nodded and departed down the hall and down the stairs. Kristen went back to the edge of Alistair's bed and sat once more.

The common room of the Lessat and Pneria was quite the sight. It was, without exaggeration, chock full of Banick noblemen and noblewomen. The Innkeep was high-strung to the very stars themselves, terribly anxious and doing his best to hide it and cater to the wishes of the sheer weight of nobility occupying his humble inn—indeed, he had his workers and his own friends and family run to fetch wines, fine meals and the chefs to prepare them, even bards from another rival inn. The bannerman relayed the news to Theodore, and when he rose from his seat, so too did every Banick.

Back in the room, Kristen could hear the large procession of Banicks approaching before she ever saw them. It was as if the hallway was playing host to an army on the march, such were the number of footsteps and the din of many separate conversations. A great many of them filled the hall, and likely it was there still wasn't enough room for all them, some perhaps listening all the way from the stairs themselves.

Theodore Banick stepped in to the room, Logan and Walter at either side. He had a permanent bend in his posture, and his old, weathered face told of a long and storied life lived (yet still, Kristen noted, his hairline had not suffered; what a fortunate heritage for Logan and Walter to inherit!). Today he walked with a cane, though Kristen didn't remember seeing him with one when first she and Alistair arrived at Ostia Anir. Still fairly spry for a man his age.

Kristen made a motion to stand, but Theodore immediately interjected, "No, no, no, please. Sit. Lay. I understand that the two of you did battle with an experienced Dreadlord, and, as only Initiates, managed to best him in defense of Ostia Anir. Rest is yours. You earned it."

"Thank you, Lord Banick."

Theodore cleared his throat then. Despite the bend in his back, he made the effort to stand a little straighter, a little more proper, calling back to his younger days with such stature.

"Alistair Atlas Krixus. Kristen Lucretia Pirian. I, Theodore Arminholm Banick, do commend the service that you have done for my House of Banick here in Ostia Anir. When it was so that the Republic all but consigned my second son, Walter, to the grim fate of a traitor merely for protesting his treatment at their hands, not only did you forge an accord which the envoys of the Republic could not, but also did you stand by him and the loyal citizenry of Ostia Anir and did so defend our holding against the ravages caused by a gross error of miscommunication. This fledgling Republic of ours would have suffered a great loss, far greater than what has occurred here today, were it not for your actions. House Banick, as well, would have been dealt a grievous blow.

"In your honor do we bow."

A remarkable thing: when Theodore Banick bowed, so too did Logan and Walter and every Banick behind them out in the hall and upon the stairs. In staggered unison (whether sincere or perfunctory, as Kristen saw out in the hallway one particular Banick, smiling, who had bowed with the rest) did they all do so.

Some of the formality dropped when Theodore righted himself, the old patriarch of House Banick openly smiling. "Speak, please. Say a word on behalf of a feat well done."

Alistair Krixus

 

[Alistair Krixus]

With a little bit more effort and a few more grunts, Alistair was able to clothe himself adequately. He may have underestimated the occasion. When he first heard the footsteps, he had been worried something went wrong, and there were attacks coming up to meet them. Instead, he realized that he had just misunderstood Kristen. It was not just Theodore or Walter, it was all of the Banicks.

He hurried to stand, but thankfully both his ribs and Theodore urged him to remain seated. Alistair got a good look at all of the people looking at them. Such a powerful family bowed before him. It was incredible. Something that his father had fought for his entire life to make happen. There was a certain sense of poetic justice that only came after his death.

Even so, Alistair could not stop but swell with pride at this moment. Only the feeling that could be from winning when no one expected it to be possible.

The expectant eyes looked towards them, this was perfect for Kristen who always seemed to know what to say. However, slowly Alistair's eyes seemed to sadden and then he spoke before Kristen could.

"Lord Theodore, we thank you for your kind words...We happily fought for Vel Anir, which needs those of House Banick. However...in the eyes of Vel Anir, we were never here. It was Vel Anir and the republic that was finally able to negotiate with you, and it was your own men and women that bravely held out until Republic forces could reinforce you from a rogue commander...We were never here."

It hurt Alistair to say as he wanted nothing more than to take credit for this achievement, but Berrenger had been clear. They were off the record. The Republic could not know they were saved by two initiates, especially two that fought off a Republic army.

Kristen Pirian

 

[Kristen Pirian]

Theodore nodded slowly at first, said "I understand," and then nodded with more vigor. "Yes, I understand, young master Krixus. The better contingents of Parliament required it to be so, and House Banick, loyal to our new and enduring Republic, will hold to that. It will be enough for us all to bear this knowledge silently."

Prompting, he said then, "Lady Kristen."

Uncharacteristically lost for words in the moment, even though Alistair had spoken before her and thus gave her that much more time, Kristen wringed her hands as she wringed her mind and heart of all the emotions endured during this mission and distilled out a brief few words to say.

"Lord Theodore, ours is a troubled history between the House of Banick and the House of Pirian. Yet it is my dear hope—"

A look to Walter. A forceful effort not to look at the other Banick out there in the hall, he who had smiled a false smile.

"—that in this new age we of rival Houses might earnestly begin to mend the wounds of centuries past and, for the good of both our Houses, come together in goodwill and solidarity. May this be the first step toward a better future for our families and all whom we love."

"Well said." And then as he was turning around to step out from the room, he let the air of formality drop and said, "Rest. Recover. Enjoy Ostia Anir's hospitality. Take an extra day even, the Academy can't backtalk a Councilor!"

Scattered laughter from a good number of Banicks out in the hallway, and then the large procession of noblemen and noblewomen eventually faded in sight and sound from the Inn altogether.

Alistair Krixus