Completed The Noblest of Deeds

Alistair was looking off into the distance as he remembered something a guest speaking had once told him. A dark expression crossed his face before he spoke.

"Kristen, I know you think some of the Dreadlords are monsters. You would be right. You are not the only one that thinks that. For some of the lucky few, they will go down as great heroes, like the Enchanting Princess Rhea, but most will not...For the majority of Dreadlords, we will be remembered as monsters...as weapons. So, do not count on anyone else to remember the fallen. Only we will remember them for who they really were."

He had received that conversation, along with several scars, when he was young and he had been calling some of the Dreadlords ancestors dumb. It was a lecture he had taken to heart.

With that depressing monologue finished, Alistair focused back in on the problem at hand.

"I was thinking we sneak into the walls with other refugees. If Banick really does plan on rebelling against Vel Anir, then he is likely preparing for a siege. The soldiers will be accepting as many people within the walls before the siege arrives. We should be able to make it."

Kristen Pirian
 
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What sense was there in denying it anymore? Yes, the Dreadlords were the mighty protectors of Vel Anir who fought alongside the Guard and whose powers could lay low scores and scores of foes...and some of them were monsters. She shuddered to think most of them, and could only hope it was not so. Archon Isbrand was one such monster; Archon Gilram (whom Kristen had mistakenly, in her naivete, thought to be a Proctor) was another. Still she held in her heart that Selene Avar, that Zana Vjollca, that Evangeline were not; that they were the shining examples that Kristen could model herself after.

The old way may have once been a harsh necessity to face and best the onslaught of the elves, those from Princess Rhea's time. Maybe. But now the time had come for the new way, for new Dreadlords to be forged without the terrible cost to the very soul of Vel Anir itself.

She didn't need to ask Alistair what she had been meaning to ask: namely, in his experience before the Revolution, how many Initiates had died and then been simply forgotten? In a sense he already answered it.

Onto the practical matter at hand.

Kristen nodded. "A shrewd solution. 'Twould be an awful circumstance if we tried to be forthright and our very entrance into Ostia Anir was denied at the gates." And, thinking of it then, she introduced a new thought to their planning, "We must be wary of potential Dreadlords in Walter's employ—'reservists' who are all but officially sworn to House Banick. I suspect that they, perhaps more so than the common soldier or knight, would not find our presence to be pleasing."

Alistair Krixus
 
Alistair was glad that Kristen seemed to drop the previous subject and move on to the matter of their infiltration.

"Good point. They are all the main few who would prove a problem if we did have to fight our way out."

Alistair and Kristen were by no means the deadliest initiates, but they were not slouches either. They could slaughter their way through several squads of guardsmen if it truly came to that.

"Dreadlords likely won't be serving as guards at the gates, so we should be able to get in. We will need to be more careful when we get closer to Banick. That will be where he places the Dreadlords."

The Dreadlords of a noble house like Banick would certainly not be pathetic. Kristen and Alistair might be able to fight off a few, but they should not put their chances on being able to fight through all of them.

"There are bound to be some in the walls that would rather be back in the arms of Vel Anir. If we run into any of them, then they may prove helpful."

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The breathtaking atrium of Vel Aerelos opened open before them as Alistair was speaking, and here in the grand open space the full orchestra of the capitol's busyness struck them. On every level were there nobles, Republic officials, Guardsmen, even scores of common citizens who had come for their own personal business.

Alistair's prediction would in time prove true, of that Kristen had little doubt. What Dreadlords Walter might have in his employ would be close to him—an appreciable number, at least. It complicated the matter of trying to speak with him, for even if Walter himself was willing, mayhap his Dreadlords would poison his ears with paranoia.

Alistair's final comment was one of good promise, though.

"Yes. Such would be an incredible fortune, both in the matter of negotiation and...well, if negotiations break down."

Kristen touched her chin with her hand, porcelain fingertips rubbing gently.

"It would be prudent to consider our presentation. Circumstances may well dictate some changes, of course, but an initial plan on how to approach Walter will serve. We could be cordial, or we could be more demanding; we could try to arrange for an official meeting, or we could...so happen to appear before him in a private locale."

Alistair Krixus
 
The minutia of bureaucracy was always impressive to see, but also somehow made him anxious whenever he saw it fully in action. It was one of those things that he understood its importance when he looked at it, but it was also far more complicated than anything he bothered learning. Someone with a grasp of bureaucracy really could just make your life a living hell.

"Although, we should assume the worst, that we won't encounter any help once inside."

Alistair looked down at his old clothes which were a little nicer than usual because he had come to meet the Councilor. He would need his nicest to meet with Banick.

"We should go for cordial. Given our past history with him, he won't like failures coming in and being demanding of him...Let's make the meeting a bit more sudden. If we make it too official, then that gives his Dreadlords or other officials time to convince him to do something stupid."

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Alistair assessing his own garb made Kristen's self-conscious. Not in a matter of attire, no, that would not be a problem at all. It was her armor. Despite the advice given by the Councilor's courier, now, as they discussing the factors of their approach, Kristen had cause to reconsider.

"Cordial, yes, I was of such a mind too." Alistair, of course, had a fair point on their history as well; discounting the incident during the Canal campaign, it wasn't as if they were the most intimidating and powerful Initiates either.

"I do have a concern about—" she tapped one of her pauldrons, "—this. Especially since we shall be appearing unannounced. What sort of statement would we be making if we showed in such a sudden manner, wearing armor and laden with weapons, though mayhap not in hand, nevertheless at our belts? Arguing from the opposite end of the matter, entering into Ostia Anir without any of our battle gear would not be so wise. Therefore, mayhap...hmm...mayhap we could stash our gear somewhere inside the city prior to the meeting? Something like this? Or mayhap it is simply too much of a risk to meet with Walter without it. What are your thoughts, Alistair?"

Alistair Krixus
 
"Keep your armor and weapons. I won't be wearing much armor, and he won't see my weapon. Still, it does not matter, either way. Banick understands that our first role is as Dreadlords. He would likely be more suspicious if we did not meet him with at least some form of defense. If he then asks us to disarm ourselves, then we can make a showing up placing our arms on the ground. That would look better."

Besides, he will keep his runesaber somewhere where Banick or the guards could not see it. If things got rough, then he would still have his chosen weapon to work with.

"I'm going to go pack some finer clothes. Banick is one of those that would appreciate the gesture of making this all seem more formal than it is."

Alistair was starting to go through a mental checklist of other things they may need while on this mission. Their were smaller things that it would be easier to acquire before going in. He then had a thought that he hesitated to ask before finally forcing it out.

"Kristen, can you see if we can get an allotment of gold for this mission. Just a little. Having some gold to pay off a few within the city may prove useful."

There was an unsaid statement that if Kristen could not get an allotment then maybe she could get some from her family.

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Their conversation carried them at last outside the magnificent front doors of Vel Aerelos and into the open air of the fair day. The sun above, hardly obscured by the thin wisps of sparse clouds, was just shy of noon.

Good points presented by Alistair, especially with regard to the possible suspicion if they weren't armed and the statement which could be made by willing accepting Walter's request, if he did so ask it of them, to disarm. Collaboration was the key to a sound plan. Which, Kristen just had to wonder: how exactly did Initiates manage under the old way, what with such rampant wariness against associating with fellow Initiates, even when the same goal was shared between them?

I'm going to go pack some finer clothes...more formal than it is.

Kristen let out a small sigh, saying mostly to herself, "Would that I could wear one of my favorite dresses for the occasion..." Two years had elapsed since her enrollment, and what was once an everyday occurrence had become woefully rare, save only for extraordinary days like the First Annual Solstice Ball.

The matter of gold, then.

Kristen didn't even consider getting said allotment from the staff at the Academy—no thought remotely like it crossed her mind. She just immediately thought of her family, and seized readily upon the excuse to visit the Pirian Estate before they set out.

"Oh! Yes! Smart thinking, Alistair. Gold is the universal language, as the merchants are fond of saying. I shall attend to that whilst you procure the finer attire you've in mind. Ah, it will be good to see Father again." Her smile was full of joy and anticipation. And then to Alistair she said, "Shall we reconvene at the gates, then, and set forth from there?"

Alistair Krixus
 
Well, that was easier than he thought it would be. It seemed that Kristen had her reasons for wanting to retrieve the gold.

"Yeah, sounds good, but don't take too much time...but I will wait if you are a little late."

He did not know where that last comment came from. Frankly, he had never once had the desire to spend extra time with his father. That would no longer be a problem.

He could not understand Kristen's reasoning at this moment, but he always imagined that having a loving family must be amazing. If it meant that much to Kristen, then he might as well not rush it. After all, who knew if they would even come back from all of this?

"I will pack and get everything else in order."

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THE GATES OF VEL ANIR​


Kristen was late.

Not that they had set any definite or even approximate time, so her sense of punctuality wasn't offended. Alright, it was a little offended, because she knew that she had taken more time than what was necessary. Simply put...the occasion was, woefully, exceedingly rare. To be able to see her family, twice now, once just prior to the mission in Eretejva Tundra, and here today? Kristen had the chance, it was justified, and so she took it...plus, perhaps, an hour or so more on top, like extra icing on a cake.

She hadn't even realized it when she had said it to Alistair, but...she'd made a ghastly faux pas. Only just had Alistair told her of his father's passing, and there she was, swept up in her gleeful obliviousness, saying in serene sighing tones how good it would be to see her father again. Gods! How stupid of her! Alistair had been, as ever, a stolid representation of an Anirian, but inwardly? Inwardly? She surely must have wounded him. There wasn't much to be done about it, save apologize if an impetus for such an apology ever did arise.

The recognition of this though—that she was still blessed to have her own father—made her stay for that extra hour, and made the eventual parting even more difficult than it ought to have been. Father inevitably noticed. When he asked her if anything was wrong, Kristen, quite uncharacteristically, was reticent. She smiled, shoved down her inner fears, and simply said, "I'm alright. Everything is alright."

Then she kissed him on his cheeks, and he on hers. He wished her good luck—though he was not a believer himself but in deference to her faith—godspeed.

So Kristen arrived at last to the mighty gates of Vel Anir. Always busy, these gates, with foot traffic and wagons, and it took her a further moment to finally catch sight of Alistair.

She waved and hurriedly jogged up to him.

"I apologize, Alistair," Kristen said. For the minor lateness, of course, and...mayhap as well, in some oblique way, for the faux pas. She held up a coin purse for him to see, the crowns inside protruding against the cloth. "A sizeable enough sum, I should say. Certainly a bargain if upon the weight of these coins mayhap rests the stability of the Republic."

Alistair Krixus
 
Alistair was waiting up against a wall. He had been there for about an hour, but he would not be telling Kristen that. His packing had gone quickly as he had only packed one more change of clothes, everything else he had on would work for the other parts of the mission.

As he expected, Kristen arrived late. He only smirked upon her arrival as he shook away the apology. The late arrival was more than made up for by the bag of coins.

The Academy may teach them otherwise, but most of the world ran on the coin, not on war. While their skills would work against soldiers, the coin would be far more effective for everyone else.

He motioned with his thumb to two horses that had been readied for travel.

"We can take them to the city, and then slip in unnoticed. Might even sell them once inside for a few extra coins." Alistair explained as he mounted one of the animals.

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"Always planning ahead," Kristen said delightedly. She patted the side of the other horse, then made to mount it—one of the rare occasions on which she was glad for her height, such did it make the task easier than it would be otherwise. Up in the saddle she cut a majestic figure, tall and regal with a posture perfected by her riding instructors prior to the Academy.

"Mother suggested that she could arrange a carriage for us to ride down to Ostia Anir," Kristen mentioned as she gigged her horse into its first few steps. "I politely declined—far too conspicuous, of course—and upon her countenance was a most telling expression of bewilderment. She meant well, but the true severity of the situation she has yet to grasp."

She smiled, the gesture almost accompanied by a shrug. It wasn't truly Mother's fault, for Kristen was scarce with the details and it seemed that the Republic itself had been as well for those who did not need to know.

"I trust everything went well for you, Alistair?"

So she hoped. Stepping inside of a home that had within it a distinct lack of a loved one would be, at least for Kristen, a harrowing experience.

Alistair Krixus
 
"Of course, why wouldn't it have?"

Alistair asked, but also continued on, not waiting for an answer. Alistair also had a practiced posture atop his mount, but his figure was the opposite of his traveling companion. Alistair's figure was lean and dressed in dark clothing that seemed to make him look even more gaunt.

If Kristen was majestic and regal, the best way to describe Alistair would be...sharp and unsettling. When he was above people on his horse, he had a bad habit of accidentally looking down on people like a hawk looking at his prey.

The mention of a wagon almost made him laugh. Just the idea of rolling up to the walls of Ostia Anir and then somehow trying to discreetly disappear was unlikely, to say the least.

"Yes, I would agree that you made the right choice."

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Phew!

Kristen hadn't expected that response: why wouldn't it have? Had Alistair pressed her for an answer, with a lingering gaze and a hanging quiet, then Kristen knew she would have found herself in a most awkward position. She was learning, slowly, that it was just best to be forthright when caught in an aforementioned position—stumbling over her words only made a further mess. Thankfully, there was no cause for any of it, as Alistair simply trotted ahead.

The gigantic arch of the main gates of Vel Anir passed by overhead as they went.

"You know," Kristen said, "I've grown to rather like this part." She glanced over, holding a steady gaze as she bobbed gently from the movement of her mount, and smiled delightedly. "The travel. I find it to be a small pocket of blissful peace, wedged in between the rigors of the Academy on one end and the harrowing intensity of whatever mission I am tasked with on the other."

She looked around as she spoke then, particularly up toward the sky. "I find further that...how shall I say this, hmm...that each enhances the other. The peace of these blissful walks and rides is made much more pronounced by the Academy and its missions; the struggles of the Academy are given deeper meaning from these moments of true respite."

Again, glancing over, somewhat bashful, "I am making some semblance of sense, aren't I?"

Alistair Krixus
 
A small smile crept onto his face as he let Kristen talk to begin their trip. She was not wrong in anything she said, she just always had a way of saying it.

"True, the dichotomy of war and peace...If you ever grow tired of the Dreadlords, Kristen, then maybe you should consider life as a poet. You have a way with words."

His response was polite, but the words had a firm grounding. It was often during the travel that initiates could get the closest thing to relaxation.

When Alistair had traveled all the way across the world, the months of travels had not only allowed him rest, but Al had even managed to write a book. He would not even attempt such a thing at the Academy.

Sadly, it was this brief respite that often caused Alistair to wonder about his life if he chose to leave the Dreadlords. As the lord of a house in the new Republic, he could likely completely ignore all Dreadlord duties if he chose to.

Thankfully, those thoughts swiftly disappeared as soon as the missions began.

Kristen Pirian
 
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Kristen couldn't help but to blush.

"Oh, but you've given me praise much too high. How could I ever stand with the likes of Godell, Angz, or Schmidt?" she said, mentioning the names of but three of her favorite Anirian poets and playwrights. And yet there were more! Men and women of grand achievement whose works defined the arts perhaps not even simply for Vel Anir, but for Liadain as a whole—the world, if Kristen might be so bold as to claim it so.

Since the day of Festum Libertatis, Kristen had made a firm resolution to better herself, to cast away or at least contain more adeptly the tide of her emotions, often in the form of anxiety and nervousness. She'd done a fair enough job of it thus far, so she believed.

But here, as her blush deepened another shade, she felt that familiar pang of nervousness in her heart. Something about voicing an ambition not so often told had a way of doing that.

An anxious smile preceded her words. "I have given some thought to practicing oration. I wish to do much for my House, for my country of Vel Anir, and what more fertile ground to become a skilled orator than in this new garden of the Republic?"

Alistair Krixus
 
Alistair nodded along in agreement, but he had no idea who those poets were. Well, he had certainly heard of them before, but Al had never been one for poetry.

He more often read histories and the sciences. Poetry and the arts were...superfluous. Yet, he was not going to be telling that to Kristen anytime soon.

"An admirable endeavor and I am sure you have the talent for it. You will make an excellent leader for this new Republic."

Those like Kristen would be important for Vel Anir's future. If the city was just managed by corrupt officials then the Republic would fall just like the monarchy. Every city needed a few idealists.

Kristen Pirian
 
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Invigorated with good spirits and well-wishing, Kristen said, "And what of you? You are more than the scion of House Krixus now; you are House Krixus, for that inheritance is in your blood, and its fate is in your hands. What's more, the oligarchy is gone, and you have seen for yourself that even men of the common stock can reach, say, the lofty aspiration of Councilor if they so desire it."

Mayhap...slightly off-kilter with that point, given how Berenger seemed to look forward to the day when he could give up his position rather than win it again. Still, the underlying message stood.

"You are calm, collected, of sound mind and keen judgment and noble heart. Surely Vel Anir would be deprived of a worthy leader if you wished not for the mantle."

Alistair Krixus
 
Alistair was quick to shake off that suggestion with a firm resolution. He could not think of anything worse for the city.

"No, I don't think that would be good. At the moment, the city needs not only a leader but one that looks like a leader. I will settle for helping when I am needed."

He was not a people person like Kristen. He could not engage the hearts and minds of the people with just his words. In fact, he might even accidentally dull their hearts and minds. Not to mention his bad habit of getting lost in passion projects.

Vel Anir needed heroes to look up to during this time, and he was anything but.

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Of course it wasn't the answer Kristen was hoping for. Not nearly as torturous was it as the answers to other questions she had asked of Edric, Henk, and Delaney, yet it left her despairing of satisfaction nonetheless.

She glanced off.

"Oft times great leaders do not seek that responsibility, but rather, they are called to it."

And Kristen looked back to Alistair, offering a slight smile.

"If you are so called, I do not doubt that you will do what is right."

Alistair Krixus
 
"We will all do our parts. That is how we were trained."

Simply completing what was needed did not scream leadership to Alistair. It was actually the bare minimum. Leadership went above and beyond those expectations.

"Still, you make a good point. I just highly doubt they will call to me when things go wrong."

In Alistair's mind, he was the pinnacle of average. His family was noble, but the lowest echelon of such, leaving him with little social influence. In terms of his Dreadlords abilities, he was by no means bad, but the incredible abilities of those like Edric, Kristen, and even Kalix.

In fact, Alistair's winning traits were likely that he might not be likely to accomplish the impossible, but he was also unlikely to completely fuck up...

Of course, he was about to go on this mission because he had messed up, so maybe he was just bad at his job.

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Kristen was, of course, a touch dismayed by his response. And so she let her leaning to optimism shine through—a far better way to close that portion of the conversation.

"Then the exemplary performance that you will assuredly display at Ostia Anir shall be but one reason detractors of yours question their own judgment."

And onward they rode.

* * * * *

THE APPROACH TO OSTIA ANIR​


Days riding south bore the fruit of their destination. Much of it was ground already covered before, and on the approach now it was certainly so. Months prior had the city appeared to them in the same way, emerging from around the same bends, the same fields, the same trees. From the distance, hardly anything looked different, but two things did stand out. A collection of tents before the walls, suitably a small number, was likely the House Banick encampment of which Councilor Berenger had spoken. And, as Alistair had predicted, at the gates was a visible line of people; all of the farms they'd passed had not a soul tending them, their owners and workers likely in that line or the city itself.

Kristen had her hooded cloak donned. The garment wouldn't completely muffle the sound of her armor underneath, but, fortunately, she was not wearing full plate, and furthermore she fully expected the commotion at the gates to be a rather good mask itself of the sound.

"Blessed be our fortunes," Kristen said, drawing her mount to a halt for a moment. "It would seem that no Councilor or Commander of the Guard, seeking to cover themselves in glory, has besieged the city during our travels. 'Tis only the Banicks."

A little joke, a little playful facetiousness.

Yet Kristen didn't know just how quickly her words would come around to haunt them.

Alistair Krixus
 
"...Right."

Kristen would have noticed that for every day they moved closer to their destination, Alistair became more and more reserved. His charming conversation on the first few days devolved into his stony façade. His mind simply would not let him ignore the importance of this mission.

Sure, if they failed then Vel Anir would likely face wars on multiple fronts, but who really cared about that? This mission served as a single golden thread for Alistair to cling to and regain some semblance of relevance on influence for his family.

While his father may be dead, and with him, his brutal expectations, but Alistair would not let himself be known as the head that led House Krixus into true ruin.

Alistair's hood was already pulled up when they arrived at Ostia Anir. Under his robe, Alistair wore decent clothing. Nice enough to be construed as a down-on-his-luck merchant, but not nice enough to draw attention to himself. His sharp eyes looked over the city like he was reading a book, trying to take in every bit of information.

"Let's hope it stays that way...Should be easy enough to sneak in. If we get stopped then let's go with you are some hired security since you are wearing the armor. I'll just be a merchant...Hopefully, we won't need that story."

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"Hopefully," Kristen seconded. She was, of course, a terrible liar, and everyone knew it. Simple little stories like that were workable—had she not donned such fictions on past missions? Where the trouble started, of course, was when improvisation was called for, or if the cover story came under even light pressure of scrutiny.

Which, given the slowness of the line at the gates, the soldiers seemed to be applying.

What she absolutely could not allow to happen was another colossal foul-up like the one in Cortos with the Inquisitor. This mission was of incredible importance to her and to House Pirian, but even more so for Alistair. It seemed that the further south they went, the closer they came to Ostia Anir, the more pensive he had become.

She started her horse again at a trot.

"I will have the easier task, then, as you would under this guise be doing most of the talking. Though, mayhap they will question why I—and not some large, strapping man—am your security." Kristen's porcelain fingertip tapped at her chin. "Well, there was this one book that I read when I was younger. A tale of adventure that spanned the whole life of a woman and how she became who she was; not the sort of story I was particularly into at the time, though, despite this, I did find it to be engrossing. But I digress. I suppose I could adopt the persona of this character to ward off any probing questions into my personal life."

Alistair Krixus
 
So, Alistair had planned for Kristen to just be the silent type, since he knew of her poor talent for lying. He had chosen this very set of facts with the idea that he would be doing all the talking.

He also had a plan for a few well-placed distractions at the gates of the city that would allow them to walk inside without even being stopped.

Of course, that was before Kristen's log-winded memory about some sort of children's book or something like that...Now, he just felt bad for his idea, since it seemed like she was getting more excited.

"Yeah...that could work."

He left it at that, not wanting to say anything else. When they were almost upon the walls, Alistair dismounted from his own horse.

Kristen Pirian
 
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