Completed The Noblest of Deeds

Kristen followed at Alistair's prompting.

And it was right as they were passing through the home's common room on the ground floor that his words brought her to a stop. Like a blow to the gut did his suggestion arrest her motion, her thoughts. She could not in any way conceal how much it troubled her, even if she made the mighty attempt to do so.

"I have...prayed many nights...for Aionus to find me worthy of benevolent magic."

She swallowed.

No such wish had she for benevolent magic of any sort when she was held captive in the Blades. Her clearest memory was that day, that moment, when she looked up at Dominic Foresend, the pirate mastermind behind her kidnapping, and nothing—nothing—but malice filled her heart.

And Kristen feared immensely that Alistair was right.

Alistair Krixus
 
Alistair was about to step out into the street when he noticed Kristen was not beside him. He looked back to see that she had frozen. He frowned, realizing his words might be taken in a different way. Hoping not to make any sort of scene, he walked back over to stand beside her.

"Oh, I did not mean it like that...I don't know much about holy magic, or how it works when you ask for magic, but...all I am saying is that you might be capable of more than you realize. It might not be about whether Aionus thinks you are worthy...It might be whether you think you are worthy."

Alistair's knowledge of holy magic was limited. In fact, he still partially believed it was just another form of arcane magic and had no connections to any gods. If that was the case then, magic took the shape of the will of the user.

He was not sure when Kristen's magic first appeared, but it might have been during a stressful time, which would make sense given her powers. It stood to reason that her powers could change if her will did as well.

Kristen Pirian
 
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"Yes. Thine words are true," Kristen said hollowly, switching, as she often did, into a very high register of speech in times of great uncertainty and anxiety.

"We should return to the inn," she said. "Plan."

She smiled. The very gesture burned with an acidic falsity on her face and she knew it. But, like Alistair, she didn't want to stay here and make a scene. She didn't want to let her emotions best her now after she had been doing so well since her promise made during the Festum Libertatis.

Though tonight...she knew she would pray yet again.

Alistair Krixus
 
Alistair did not say anything, the frown remained on his lips, but he nodded and moved to leave. There was no point in trying to talk with Kristen like this. All that this would result in would be him getting bombarded with a monologue from 300 years ago.

If she wanted to talk with him then he would, but the fancy words usually meant the exact opposite. Alistair would stop by two shops before they made it back to the inn, to buy a few things.

Once back in their room, he needed to get to work on the runes, which he would set into two simple medallions that he had purchased.

"So, I was thinking of entering through that back entrances that the servants go in through. We enter there, and hopefully, the images hold up long enough for us to move off on our own and toward Banick's room. From what I can tell, it is on the second floor on the west wing."

Yes, let them plan. It was the easiest way for Kristen to take her mind off of whatever Alistair had accidentally made her think about.

Kristen Pirian
 
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The walk did well for her mind. Terrible dismay she felt over her lack of benevolent magic, the bright hopefulness in the early years of discovering her magical aptitude slowly degrading into painful yearning, but, prayer or no prayer, doubtless it would not be resolved tonight. She had a duty here in Ostia Anir she needed to attend. She couldn't let her personal affairs get in the way of it.

Returned then to the Lessat and Pneria and to their room, Kristen sat on the edge of her bed. Presently, she was removing her armor, her gauntlets and one pauldron already set neatly on the floor.

She'd not said much during their walk back and visits to the shops, but now her voice was once again composed. "A sound plan." She smiled a little, remembering something fond. "You know, I once heard my father remark in jest that if you merely look the part, convey outwardly your confidence in belonging, and conduct yourself as if you are embarked upon an important task, then no one will ever question you being anywhere. Spoken in jest though it may have been, I believe my father's words hold some truth."

She dipped her head toward those two medallions Alistair had purchased.

"Looking the part you will cover for the both of us. It leaves only the other two."

Alistair Krixus
 
"That is the plan, and yes I agree with that statement. You are forgetting one added step if you really aren't supposed to be there. Don't get caught talking too much. Only say the bare minimum."

Kristen's suggestion was correct though. The trick to this would be speed and confidence. They just needed to get to Banick's room and hopefully, none of their trickery would matter.

"You are better at that kind of stuff anyways, so just be confident enough for the both of us."

Alistair reached over and took one of the medallions. Then, with ink and quill, he marked out the path of the runes to serve as a guide. It wasn't the easiest. Putting runes on such small objects was often annoying. He had to pause and take a deep breath just to remind himself that his hands were no longer shaking. It had only been a few weeks since Alistair had gained back the dexterous use of his fingers.

Kristen Pirian
 
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Yes. The other two were a mindset. One which absolutely included saying the bare minimum, and saying it in a manner that was everything unlike Kristen's own brief dialogue with that Cortosi Inquisitor. She was determined not to let such a disaster happen again, but...

No. No buts, no yets, no mayhaps. She needed to be confident enough for the both of them, just as Alistair said.

She had her other pauldron off, and then unbound her gorget from her mail shirt. She waited a while until she was reasonably sure Alistair had a moment to spare from his concentration in runecrafting.

"I will."

She pulled off her mail shirt, folded it, and with that familiar clinking and clattering, even despite her gentleness, did she come to lay it beside her other armor pieces. She straightened her arming doublet afterward.

"The hard questions must be asked: what shall we do if our illusions are seen through?"

Alistair Krixus
 
At first, it did not look like Alistair heard Kristen's question, but that was disproven when the enchanting tool stopped moving. Still, he was silent for a second. He should have had a backup plan, and then a backup plan for the backup plan. He had nothing.

"It becomes a race. You drop some terror into the servants and we move as fast as we can to Banick. Hopefully, we get there before we have to fight...If we get caught then, we ask to speak with Banick politely. If they say no...that's when we fight."

Alistair did have a few more simple items that he was to prepare, but they were nothing more than distractions. If they were really pushed to the wall, then maybe the two of them could strip into their underclothes and try to pass themselves off as servants.

If even that failed...then Alistair might be breaking one of the promises he had made with Kristen that day.

Kristen Pirian
 
"At least in the service of said race, my magic will prove a good fit."

Certainly as well if the worst came about and a fight resulted, but Kristen was more concerned with not reaching that point if it could at all be helped. Scarcely was there any love to be lost for House Banick or for Walter in particular, yet nonetheless she wanted to exhaust the option of negotiation through the earnest attempt thereof, not through misfortune and the necessity to escalate right past it.

Slight chagrin accompanied these thoughts. For however much she longed for Blessings, malevolent Conjurations and Curses were here far better suited to the task tomorrow.

At last her leg armors were removed and Kristen collapsed backward onto the bed, simply falling back where she sat. Her arms were as splayed out as her hair as she looked to the ceiling.

"I hope that we will find a way to make Walter see reason," she said. "I want this to succeed in the best way possible. So often have I tasted the bitterness of failure, and I just..."

Her lips pursed, a tiny, frustrated rush of air from her nose followed, and Kristen left the rest unspoken.

Alistair Krixus
 
"It may be the deciding factor in that race."

Alistair admitted as he turned back to working on the medallions. The other fact that kept nagging at the back of Alistair's mind was that they had only seen one Dreadlord. There had to be more, but they did not have any idea where they could be.

"Kristen, do you want some advice that I try to follow? I don't always, but it helps when I do."

He had picked up on the decline of Kristen's mood. He was focusing on his work, but he needed to try and fix this before tomorrow.

"You might be even more backward-looking than me. Always thinking of what if. If you want to keep your sanity then you need to let it go. Focus on your failures, and learn from them, but once you get the point, let it go. It all just serves to weigh us down...We will succeed here Kristen. Why? Because you are not incompetent. You are a good Dreadlord, even if a little green. All you have to do is focus."

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Kristen shifted just enough on the bed to look at Alistair whilst still lying down. Receptively she listened, taking to herself an inward moment with his words before she spoke.

First she mused, "A good Dreadlord. No one has ever said that to me before."

Not that she hadn't ever encountered encouragement. Just those words arranged so, you are a good Dreadlord, had not once graced her ears since enrolling into the Academy. Instantly in the moment after she knew that Alistair and everyone else who weathered the old way had for a decade or more never heard those words, and with it came a small, painful pang in her chest over such awfulness.

She sat up then.

"Yours is good advice, Alistair."

Kristen felt, and looked, like she was going to add more to that. The very words balanced on the tip of her tongue, something like "I shall endeavor to put it to practice" or "Mayhap I will prove myself worthy of your praise." But no. She didn't.

Deeds. Not words. All the words in this vein had already been spoken on many occasions in the past, and her promise made to herself on Festum Libertatis was more than enough.

And on the morrow shall come the time for deeds.

Kristen slid off of the bed and onto her feet, descending down onto her knees whilst orienting herself in the general direction of Mount Dincia.

"I am going to pray," she said, and then offered a smile. "Would you like for me to make any special plea on your behalf?"

Alistair Krixus
 
A small smile pulled at Alistair's lips, but he hid it by focusing on his work.

"No, let them focus on your stuff."

While he knew the importance of religion, Alistair had never been religious. It was just something he had never learned or experienced in great detail. His family had not been religious in the slightest.

His father you to say he was a believer when he believed it would benefit him, but Al knew that had all been a lie.

The thought of his father made the smile drop from his face, as for the first time, he allowed himself to think on it.

This mission was going to put him and the family name back in good repute. Just you watch father, I'll bring this family to heights you could not imagine. When I am done, no one will ever even remember you.

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"Very well."

Kristen made the sign of Astra over herself followed by the sign of Aionus. She clasped her hands before herself and bowed her head. Eyes closed, her lips moved as she spoke an inaudible prayer.

A few minutes did she spend in reverence.

At last she again made the signs of Astra and Aionus, and she stood and sat back down on her bed. It would have been nice if she'd had a gown to change into, but travel on the road hardly warranted the space in her pack, what with the many nights spent in the open air. But at least she could sleep without her armor on.

"On the morrow, then, shall we see this through."

And she lay back on the bed, hands underneath her head on the pillow and her ankles crossed. Despite the readiness of her body to drift into sleep, she reckoned that it might well be some time before her mind quelled enough for the same.

Alistair Krixus
 
It was a bit longer before Alistair wrapped up his work and he moved off to sleep, without saying much. He offered Kristen a nod, it did not matter if she saw it. It was just him being polite. The darkness of sleep could not come soon enough. It was only in this darkness that his thoughts finally stopped.

Alistair's eyes looked out onto the street, from a dark alleyway. One of the two moons was in a new phase while the other was a waxing crescent. It made it difficult for Alistair to see, but that was perfect. Almost no light pollution would make it easier to go unseen. It might prove useful if they had to run.

It was late enough in the night that the sun was long gone and most people were asleep, but also awkwardly early enough that the guards would not expect anything.

"I think it is time."

He quickly pulled out the two finished medallions and handed one to Kristen. He put his around his neck and turned to Kristen to see if the illusion was working against her.

"The medallion does use the wearer's magic, but it is a minuscule amount, so it should not be a problem."

Kristen Pirian
 
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Thus far all had gone well.

Their guises of Phineus and Kon had not been foiled through any unfortunate mishap, the city—whether it was by Logan Banick's efforts or not—had not yet come under siege, and the apprehension throughout Ostia Anir hadn't boiled over into anything dangerous. The weather was even nice. Earlier in the day, whilst getting an afternoon meal, they thought they had a close run-in with another Banick Dreadlord. It would have been disastrous if it were so, if either of them were recognized, but...turned out it was only a foreign born mage, an exile from Cortos, who was using the situation in Ostia Anir to make a little coin with his meager Alteration magic.

Now, at last, the waiting was over. Despite all of their good fortune Kristen found the day to be almost unbearable. The anticipation, like a pit of hot coals burning away within her chest, was worse than anything. Here now in the alleyway, with Alistair producing the medallions he'd worked on the day prior, all of that tension was relieved. On the precipice of embarking on their task Kristen felt calm. Finally the dread of the thing was behind her. Finally she could take action, and her fate was in her hands. She could at last in the rhyming poetry of history have her second chance.

Blessed Aionus, Holy Sentinel, watch over us.

Kristen accepted the medallion and slipped it over her head. A slight tingle as, yes, she could feel the wellspring of her magic being tapped. Tiny, this tapping, just as Alistair said.

Grabbing her attention more was the remarkable shift of Alistair himself when he donned his own medallion.

"You cut quite the grizzled countenance of an experienced guardsman," Kristen said. "I should hope mine is likewise convincing?"

Alistair Krixus
 
Alistair sighed in relief as he felt the medallion pull from his own magic followed by Kristen's confirmation that the medallion was working. He looked down at his hands and nodded in satisfaction.

When he raised his eyes, he was met with the youthful appearance of a young boy, maybe their age if not younger. His hair was tied back in a ponytail. He looked like the stereotypical image of the far too young boys who thought they would join the army hoping to gain fortune and glory, only to be severely disappointed in his later years.

"Um...yeah, you look great."

Turning away to check on the supplies at his belt, and maybe to hide a small smirk, Alistair quickly changed the topic.

"Alright, that light towards the back of the building on the right side is where we are going in. There might be some servants, but just ignore them."

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Through the sparse light of the moons did the silhouette of the Estate and its walls take shape. Even with the lateness of the hour, the number of lights from the windows gave the sense of busyness within the Estate—plenty of midnight oil being burned, so the saying went.

From their observations Kristen knew which particular door Alistair spoke of. Even though it was one of the servants' doors, twin sconces adorned either side of it and their small flames were visible from their vantage yesterday.

"Right," Kristen said. She ran over the mental map of the Estate from their visit. Incomplete, this map, but everything was potentially helpful. "Then we find some stairs, proceed to Walter's chambers, wait for the perfect moment and slip in." A breath. "Just that easy."

And with that, they started off.

Ahead, the back gates of the Estate's walls. Two elite Banick soldiers posted there. Kristen kept her heart clear, her breathing steady. They looked the part. Now it was merely the question of conveying the confidence in their belonging and conducting themselves as if dutifully embarked upon an important task.

They approached the gate and the two soldiers.

As they stepped into the Estate's glow leaking through the iron bars of the gate, the two soldiers looked to them. Studying them for a moment. And the one closest, aged wrinkles about his eyes visible through the slit of his helm, said to Kristen, "You're gonna get a notch on your belt soon enough, lad."

"Mm," Kristen grunted in agreement, the masculine rumble in her throat the best approximation she could summon.

The elder soldier gave a small gesture of his head to his companion, who set about opening the gate for them.

Looking the part, confidence and conduct, and, of course, not saying too much. She'd taken Alistair's caution to heart.

Alistair Krixus
 
As they began to move, the nerves were beginning to get to Alistair. He could feel his heart start to beat faster and his fingers started to tap with anxious energy. It was a combination of the importance of this mission and the fact that the last time they had been given an important mission, everything had gone wrong.

As they made their way over to the guards, a single thought kept repeating in his mind.

Turn it off. Turn it off. Turn it off. Turn...it...off.

As they finally came to stand in front of the guards, Alistair felt the anxiety disappear. His mind had finally managed to flip the switch that was so important for a Dreadlord to have. His breathing calmed and his fingers stopped. It also helped that Kristen was talking...She was doing a good job.

Alistair's appearance made it easy for him to just look grumpy and keep his mouth shut, a combination that he was fairly used to performing.

As they began to walk by them, he simply nodded in acknowledgment of the two guards. There was no reason to say anything else.

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Kristen took a hard right once they were inside the Estate grounds, walking toward the door with the twin sconces. Further off to the right was a gazebo with three distinguished looking men, bannermen with allegiance to Walter most like, all smoking pipes and having a chat.

"...not the last of them."

"Do you think so? It'll be three weeks come tomorrow since the Republic has come to the negotiating table, and the reports from the scouts...everyone is thinking this means war, Wissburg or no Wissburg."

The first speaker seemed confident. "They cannot risk it. And if they did they would be fools. They'll put up their paltry siege for show, but Walter has the right of it: do you think the nobility will take this lying down? The other Houses, major and minor, hell, even Lord Theodore for Kress's sake, will see it as..."

Kristen couldn't stop to continue listening, lest undue attention be drawn to her and Alistair. Ugh, as much as she would have liked to. Privacy (or assumed privacy as it were) loosened tongues, and the three bannermen were all quite content to speak openly amongst each other of pertinent goings-on.

Even so, their plan offered something better: access to the man himself. Best to adhere to it.

Kristen opened and entered the twin sconced servants' door.

Immediately inside was the large kitchen area. A small group of servants off to one side, their idle conversation scarcely interrupted by perfunctory glances Kristen and Alistair's way. Another servant emerged from the storeroom off to the left, carrying a bucket of water and various cleaning supplies beneath her arm over to the servants' staircase.

The servants' staircase which had a somewhat annoyed looking guardsman blocking the doorway. He allowed the female servant with the cleaning supplies to pass, but resumed his post after. He, too, only gave Kristen and Alistair a brief and disinterested look.

Alistair Krixus
 
Alistair stayed vigilant, taking in the conversation that went on as they made their way deeper into the estate. Those guards, if only they knew, their would never be a siege. By this time tomorrow, hopefully, everyone would be returning to their homes...except Lord Banick.

The arrival of the kitchen brought with it the first decision that needed to be made. First, things first, Alistair tried to deter the servants gazes by giving them a look of his own. The real question was whether they should attempt to take the servants' staircase. It could likely take them exactly where they need to go, but purposely going through another guards brought with it its own set of problems.

His eyes may have sat on the staircase for just a second longer before making a quick decision. They need to try.

He gave Kristen a slight nudge to let her know something was coming.

"I'm telling you. I heard the Lord was going to shut down the brothers after tonight. Said that he did not want the soldiers losing focus."

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Before Kristen could even deliver her end of the repartee, the guardsman by the servant's stairs door spoke flatly: "He already did."

Alarmed, even through her attempt to suppress it, she couldn't help but look the guardsman's way. Thoughts of the worst helplessly invaded her mind. Oh no! Of all the things to possibly expose them it was some comment about brothels, an attempt to subtly coax the guardsman through an offhanded remark to move elsewhere—

But the guardsman barked out a singular laugh. "You should've seen your face." Another bark of a laugh, and to Alistair he said, "Well if that's true, cover for your buddy, would ya? He looks like he needs some hair on his chest and that's one way to do it."

Relieved and back on track, Kristen shook her head and played into it (doing her best to lower her voice), giving a little nonchalant shrug, "Can't tonight."

The guardsman smirked a little. "Sounds like his balls need to drop too." An idea seemed to strike him then. "Well, if Sir Keating is riding your asses and you're stuck on Manor Duty, one of you chucklefucks want to take over here?" He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "One of the new elf maids apparently, in all of those hundreds of years, didn't figure out how stairs work. Big spill on the staircase. Lord Banick'll behead half the staff if someone tracks dirty footsteps on the upstairs carpet."

Alistair Krixus
 
Alistair's face maintained a rather blank expression, further amplified by the illusion which was not the best at translating facial expression. If he would have been drinking water, he would have done a spit take when the other guard spoke on the brothels.

He was sure the brothels had still been operating earlier in the day when they walked by them. His memory had never failed him before. Had Banick shut them down since then, it was possible. Al was just about to speak and make some sort of excuse when the laughing began. He quickly let loose his own chuckle, partly out of relief.

Alistair did his best to look like he did not want to have any part in relieving this man of his duty. He kept his voice low and raspy.

"Oh, I don't know...If I do you this favor you owe me one later, alright?"

He looked as defeated as he could, but even as he said this, he was moving over to take the stair guard's position.

"I need to stop walking anyways, the knee is killing me."

Kristen Pirian
 
"Fine, fine," said the guardsman in response to the favor. "I hate tending to the mast out in the outhouse."

One of the chatting servants stopped midsentence and glanced over toward the guardsman with all of the shocked offense of someone whose duty it was to clean said outhouse. Kristen's own visage might have borne the same expression for the guardsman's crudeness, were it not for sheer of will to stay "in character."

"Good man," the guardsman said as Alistair got close. He raised his hand to give him a clap on the shoulder—

...definitely don't let anyone touch you...

"Hey!" Kristen interjected. Success, in that the guardsman froze in puzzlement from the abruptness, hand suspended in the air, but now he was looking expectantly Kristen's way.

She had to think. Fast. Act faster.

"You can...cover for me later, right?"

The guardsman glanced to Alistair. Stony at first, his look. And then a little smirk became of it. Better still, his hand descended down to his side without touching Alistair, having seemingly forgotten all about his friendly gesture.

"You know what, I'll forward the courtesy down the stream, yeah. I won't be back until well after the witching hour. Hold it in till then. I know it'll be your first time and all, but make it quick: if you're not back here before Assembly tomorrow morning, Sir Keating'll bury his sabaton in your ass. And mine."

And with that, the stair guardsman had a brisk walk to the door and disappeared through it.

Kristen looked to Alistair, illusory eyes level and steady, but mayhap in their very centers the true sigh of relief that she felt.

Alistair Krixus
 
Alistair was about to pull away from the man's hand when Kristen's quick thinking saved the day. He just lightly smiled at the continued conversation before moving further from the man.

When the guard finally left, Alistair was able to let out a slight sigh as he glanced at Kristen. He did not say anything, but the slight nod said what he needed to. Nice job.

Alistair posted up at his new position, holding it for several minutes and letting the servants return back to their routine. When he finally felt like everything had gone back to normal, he whispered to Kristen.

"Alright, let's get moving."

Al lightly backed into the staircase before fully turning and quickly making his way up the stairs. The servant's routes should put them close to Banick's own room. As the lord, the servants would need to visit his abode more frequently than others.

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Wordless communication between the two of them. Waiting, "standing guard" as it were, until the servants in the kitchen ran out of spare time and parted from their conversation, going elsewhere throughout the Estate to attend to their other duties or to their quarters for rest.

Alright, let's get moving.

Kristen gave a little nod in the now quiet kitchen. The elf maid was just coming down the stairs when Alistair opened the door. Bucket and scrub brush in either hand, rags tucked between her arm and side, she timidly lowered her eyes, mumbled deferentially, "It is all done," before quickly slipping past, quite careful herself not to touch either of them.

Up the stairs.

Carefully out the door to the second floor.

Much like how Kristen remembered it, with the same carpet, same style of paint along the walls and style of paintings adorning them, the hallway familiarly well and evenly lit through mundane and magical means. Fortune smiled on them, for, looking to the left and to the right, there was no one else currently in the hall. Conversational voices could be heard elsewhere, from open doorways leading to studies, smoke rooms, or other various chambers, but the hallway was theirs.

Toward the west wing. Neither Kristen nor Alistair had precisely seen the door to Walter's own bedchambers, but, as it often was in noble circles, surely it would stand out. The wood finish would be more lavish, the crest of House Banick would be upon it, his name or initials would be emblazoned upon a golden plate, it would be at the end of the hall, something would tell them that this was the door they were looking for.

That would be the easy part.

The hard part, the part hinging on the whims of luck, would be getting there and getting in without raising suspicion. And hoping that Saydor Vinn, or any of Walter's doubtless other Dreadlords, did not chance upon their path.

Alistair Krixus
 
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