Private Tales The Old Ways

[Xylthe]

"Yes sir," Xylthe whispered to his retreating back and dipped a curtsey even if he did not see it. He would know if she didn't and she did not intent to squander the good she had gained from tonight.

The other servants were quick and efficient about cleaning up the banqueting hall and the Drow felt confident enough about leaving the kitchen staff to their own devices to head to bed. Blissfully and by some miracle those she had hired had picked other rooms meaning she still had privacy in her old room. She shut the door and leaned against it with a sigh before slowly undressing and clambering into bed.

She was asleep before her head even had a chance to hit the pillow.

 

[Velkyn]

There were a surprising few days of calm before the next time that Xylthe was called before Velkyn.

Nearly a week passed where the Avendrow was left utterly to her own devices. She was not allowed to leave of course, but no one stopped her from venturing almost anywhere in the manor. The only room sealed to her being the chamber she had seen with the blood runes.

A place guarded by two Reavers at almost all points in time.

It was a calm period. The Servants scurried around the house, the Reavers stalked the halls, but what was missing was Velkyn himself. For six whole days he made not a single appearance, not even a flicker of his face appearing briefly in the halls.

It was only when she was called, on the night of that sixth day, that Xylthe would see him.

Velkyn sat calmly, patiently behind the desk of his 'cousin'. A small smile rested on his face, the yellow of his eyes peering at papers on his desk.

 

[Xylthe]

Xylthe used her days to recover. Since the storming of her home and the murder of her old Master she had barely managed to close her eyes for an hour or more whether out of fear, grief, or the sheer amount of work that had been laid before her. So she took the time greedily. Her days were spent properly organising the other servants until after the third day she barely needed to remind anyone of their job. Halls were swept, fires made, food prepared all without her oversight though of course she made sure to check in. Not because she didn't trust them to do the work given but so the Reavers who watched her like hungry hawks would not think her needless now.

But the evenings and nights she allowed for herself.

It was one such night where she had ensconced herself in her usual spot in the manors courtyard when two Reavers materialised from the shadows and bade her to follow. What fragile sense of peace she had allowed herself suddenly ruined.

One of the Reavers gently pushed her forward and she dropped to her knees before the giant desk, head pressed to the ground.

"You summoned me, Master?"

 

[Velkyn]

He didn't deign the question with an answer. "In two days the Caravan will set out."

There was a dryness to his voice, as though he didn't actually care all that much about the event. Slowly he pushed himself up from the desk, taking a few steps before turning towards the massive window that sat behind him.

"They will journey to the Hallowed Halls of Istreneth." He glanced briefly over his shoulder. "Do you know where that is?"

The city was an ancient one, even by the standards of their people.

Raath was an infant compared to the ancient hall, though it had fallen far since the diminished favor the Empire. It's population was less than a third of what it had been at it's peak, but to some that hardly mattered. The Drider Queen still ruled their, Lleth worshiped within her webbed Halls.

It was a place that not many would go willing, a place that even Velkyn had avoided. For it's ruler was a fickle creature, and her servants even more so.

Yet the opportunity was enough to risk it.

 

[Xylthe]

The hairs on the back of Xylthe's neck prickled. She couldn't tell what it was but there was a lethal sense of danger in the air, more than when Velkyn was usually present. Something was coming and the Aevendrow was sure she did not want to find out what.

"Yes Master," she said softly to his question though she didn't dare raise her head or move from her prostrated position before the desk. The Reaver behind her seemed to shift on his feet in anticipation of something which only made Xylthe's nerves worse. Squeezing her eyes shut for a moment she then continued timidly. "I was belonged to Her Majesty's Steward, Lord Mizzrym. Before he was..." she trailed off.

Before the Queen had rather publicly had him executed in the most gruesome fashion possible. His lands, estates, slaves had all been sold off afterwards. Including, it seemed, Xylthe.

 

[Velkyn]

Amusement flickered over his features. "Ah. Well then you'll know who rules the city, and the whims she sways to."

His head shook.

The story Xylthe told did not surprise him in the least. He had not heard of Lord Mizzrym, but his fate was hardly surprising. The Drider Queen was not one to forgive even the most mild of offenses, especially with those she regarded as being close to her.

She was ever a fickle creature.

"I have only met her once before myself, and she was less than...receptive." His head shook, as though dispelling an unpleasant scent. "But, that is two days from now, today there is something else."

They would speak more of Istreneth when the time came. "The Hunt."

He remarked with a smile.

 

[Xylthe]

Xylthe was glad her face was pressed to the floor so he couldn't see her grimace. Of course they had managed to organise one of their Hunts within a week. There might have been much that was lost when the Drow moved to this area of the Inbetween but it would take more than a few hundred years for the bloodlust that seemed to fester in each of their kind to be bred out of them.

"My Lord must be very excited to attend," she murmured softly. "I can have your footman ready to leave within the hour with what you would need, and the cook can prepare some food for you to take too..."

 

[Velkyn]

Velkyn waved his hand dismissively. "Lord Yithren is taking care of all that fare."

The man had specifically said 'not to worry about anything'. The Paranoid part of his mind of course told him to worry about everything instead, but Yithren was of the blood. He doubted the man would try to kill him, and if he did?

Well, the Reavers would be within the shadows.

"See that my weapons are ready." He told her. "And dress in the traditions of the hunt."

Lips furled into a slight snarl. "Perhaps we can take this opportunity to teach a few lessons."

He already had Yithren in the palm of his hand, he now just needed to secure him.

 

[Xylthe]

Xylthe's fingers curled into fists but still she did not raise her head.

"S-sir... I thought... I thought that perhaps because I did so well with your dinner that you might grant me one small mercy, please," her voice trembled with fear. What was she doing? The last time she had disobeyed she had ended up in that horrible room. The room of nightmares. What if he put her back there for bothering to ask?

"I know nothing about the Hunt, Master. I own no clothes than the dress on my back. I b-beg of you Master, please, take one of the others. One of the footmen, they would do much better."

 

[Velkyn]

Velkyn stopped in his tracks. He looked down at Xylthe, his face an unreadable masked if she had looked up at him. "Do not mistake one kindness for having gained my favor."

The Drow Lord said, referring to the books that he had granted her.

Slowly his foot kicked out. Not to strike her, but to place just beneath her chin. Forcefully he raised her head towards his. Yellow eyes meeting her with an eternal cold behind them. He stared at her, the emotion on his face almost impossible to read.

"Your attendance was requested by Lord Yithrel." He stated plainly. "The insult of your absence is not worth any mercy you might have gained."

Velkyn sounded as though her were speaking to a particularly stupid child.

His foot flipped out from beneath her head, fingers coming together in a snap. The sound seemed to echo later with the click of metal against stone as one of the Reaver's slipped from the shadows. "See that she is properly dressed for the Hunt. Give her some of your garb If you must."

The Drow said as he left the room.

 

[Xylthe]

Xylthe's insides turned to ice at the sudden change in his tone. Her whole body tensed as it awaited the assault in some form or other and a quiet whimper eked from her lips when his footsteps drew near. She had expected a kick or for him to grab her by the hair and yank her to her feet. The cold warning was, in a way, even more frightening and she shook with that fear as he continued speaking.

A quiet sob broke from her chest when he turned away from her and she felt the hands of the Reavers pulling her to her feet. She was half convinced they were about to throw her into that room but they bowed and dragged her not there, but to the bathing rooms instead.

"You make this harder for yourself," Xylthe started when one of them spoke and stared up at him through bleary eyes. It was hard to tell the Reavers apart but she thought he was the one who had originally captured her.

"Please... just cut my throat. Be done with it," she whispered but the Reaver only shook his head in disgust and began to carry out Velkyn's orders.

Servants didn't tend to have access to the bathhouses, they did the best they could with a tub in the kitchen when they could and the same went for their clothes. The Reavers didn't seem to think that was acceptable for the Hunt however for she was forced into the scalding bath waters, scrubbed within an inch of her life, then forces into clothes she didn't want to know how they had procured. An hour later when the two horses were outside ready to go, a packhorse behind with the supplies they would need, Xylthe was marched from the manor. Her white hair gleamed and curled where it had been left loose and fell to the small of her back. The dress she wore was of the style of the city that bared her shoulders and flared into wide bell-like sleeves. The black silk only exemplified the unique colouring of her skin and the markings she bore and was picked out with embroidery around the edges that matched the silvery belt around her waist.

The only thing that spoilt it was the look of utter misery on her face and the puffiness in her eyes which showed she'd been crying recently.

 

[Velkyn]

Velkyn looked resplendent.

Instead of his usual robe like coat the Drow Lord now wore armor of spider-plate. Meticulously crafted and worked armor that would have fetched the fortune of a household in the Underdark. The plates carefully overlapping one another, yet fighting perfectly to his form.

It was the type of thing someone might wear into battle, and it was not ill-suited to the task that they would face in the tunnels today.

In the old days of the Empire the Drow had very quickly run out of enemies. With no wars to fight and no battles to be had, the Hunts within the Underrealm became a place for a warrior or Lord to prove his mettle. Velkyns garb was traditional, well placed and even impressive on their journey today.

Velkyn didn't comment on the despair within Xylthe's eyes. "Yithrel will be most pleased."

He said as she approached, clearly more speaking to himself than to her.

The Drow didn't wait a second for her to speak, but instead turned his mount and began to head out of the estate. Yithrel would be waiting at the Ethren Gate, the largest of the doors which lead to the Underrealm from Raath.

 

[Xylthe]

The Reaver holding her to ensure she didn't try to run all but threw her onto the other horse. Xylthe grimaced as the thing began to jog sideways and she clutched at the reins uncertainly. The only times she had ever been allowed on one of these was usually with her hands bound and laying across the saddle rather than astride it. When no command came from its rider the mount simply decided for her and spun to trot after the retreating figure of Velkyn leaving Xylthe to clutch at the wide mantel and focus on staying in it.

It was an uncomfortable but blessedly short journey to the Ethren Gate where the rest of the Hunting party were waiting. Black snarling dogs with vicious red eyes bit at one another with razor sharp teeth, servants milled about ensuring wagons were loaded in the dark livery similar to what Xylthe wore so they would not stand out in the darker tunnels. The other nobility wore armour and shouted for their weapons to be sharpened further by sweating forgers bent double over whetstones.

Xylthe took it all in with growing dread.

"You made it!" Lord Yithrel boomed causing several others to turn their heads to look at the newcomers too.

 

[Velkyn]

"Indeed I did." Velkyn said, his voice filled with a surprising amount of warmth.

He was hardly the sort for friends, less so for brotherhood, but he knew that weaker men like Lord Yithrel tended towards such pursuits. It was a thing that prevailed even in the Old Days. The priesthoods were little more than gangs of brothers, doing their best to take what power they could.

Velkyn knew it for what it was, but he also knew something else.

Lady Yithrel was the one that held the true power between the two other Drow, and the way to her was through her husband. "I would not pass up the opportunity to go on a hunt with the only person in this city who understands."

Velkyn said with a smile, his host practically beaming.

"I had hoped it would be as much! I am glad to see you, and have you along in this hunt."​

The other Drow side with a short but gracious bow.

 

[Xylthe]

Then the Drows eyes turned towards his second guess.

"And you, Xylthe," the young servant watched in horror as the Lord actually gave her a little bow of her own. "Avaendrow are quite the luck charm did you know? I've actually heard if you wear a bit of their blood no tusk can pierce your skin," there was a smile on his face but a look that bordered on something darker and more maleficent. She wanted to throw up and swayed slightly in her saddle as though she might very well just pass out.

Oblivious, the Lord's attention suddenly snapped to something else happening amongst the men and he strode off to bark orders and ready the hunt. With Velkyn now here they were ready to move.

"We'll make our way to the base and leave the servants to set up camp before we head off. Nothing worse than returning to no wine!" He grinned as he reined in his horse next to Velkyn.

 

[Velkyn]

Velkyn had to work had to keep from rolling his eyes.

Now more than ever it was clear that Lord Yithrel was nothing more than a child. One of those pompous fools who'd been born in the lap of luxury and never known anything else. They had been rife within the Empire at it's fall, and were no less populous now.

A shame, given the merits of his wife.

Perhaps we can offer her a better option. Velkyn mused to himself with a small smile, waving a hand and motioning for Xylthe to follow along.

As they began to move forwards Velkyn carefully observed those upon the hunt. Most of them were Drow, like him, though he spotted glimpses of a few other species. The greater whole were servants, though at least one or two others were not. One in particular was an interesting mark; a Tiefling if Velkyn had to guess.

"Xylthe." His voice was hushed, whispered. "Find out who the other guests are."

She was not just here to bring a bit of luck.

 

[Xylthe]

Xylthe looked like a kicked puppy but she nodded glumly and kicked at her horse to get it to move on to another crowd. She would feel much more comfortable around the servants and who better to tell her who these other people were than them? Servants heard everything. Nobles always tended to forget they were there, pressed against a wall and ready to jump at the next order.

It also meant she could get off the horse.

Gracelessly sliding from the horses back she set about taking off the saddle bags with the bits the Reavers had packed for their trip.

"Ah you must be Master Velkyn's.... handmaid," an elderly drow said, peering down his long beak-like nose. Xylthe nodded.

"Master Yithrel requested he bring me for... luck," the pair grimaced at the same time.

 

[Velkyn]

"Superstitions." The old Drow said with a wry sort of smile.

It was almost as though the very idea was fanciful to him, something that he recalled from an age long passed. He mused for a moment, his eyes following the other Drow Lords as they co-mingled with one another. His gaze resting on Velkyn for more than a few moments.

He held no ire in the way he looked at the man, but slowly turned towards Aviana.

"Nonsense, of course." The Old Drow said. "You are no more lucky than I, I'm afraid."

Slowly his eyes turned away from Velkyn and towards Xylthe. "But I am sure you are already more than aware of that, with all that you have been through."

His tongue clicked, head shaking in dissatisfaction.

 

[Xylthe]

Xylthe hesitated; how much did he know about what had gone in in the manor with Velkyn as the new master? Servants learnt secrets they had no right knowing. Did he know her whole household had been murdered aside from her? Her heart quickened its pace but she kept her face neutral; hiding fear was a skill she had learnt quickly when she had first been shackled. Politely she nodded with a tight-lipped smile, hoping it gave little or nothing away.

Perhaps he just knew a bit about her history.

"Who are the other nobles who are here? I don't recognise them all," she asked curiously and glanced around at the others, especially those who were not Drow.

 

[Velkyn]

"No, you would not." The Old Drow said with a shake of his head, not as though he were disappointed in her...but more at the state of things.

His brow seemed to furrow for a moment.

Eyes studied the Avendrow carefully, as though he were searching for something. Then slowly his gaze tore away and looked back towards the crowd. "Most of these men and women do not like to dabble in politics, at least not directly."

An old and curled finger raised.

"That is Lord Dat'tremir. An old Drow House." He said, then shifted. "That is Lady Xelt, and that is Lord Trurik."

The Old Drow shook his head. "They are all of a like mind, you see. Wealthy, but not powerful. Not in this city anyway."

Something seemed unsaid in those words. "They were drummed out long ago."

 

[Xylthe]

Lord Velkyn was not going to like that, Xylthe thought though kept a neutral curious expression fixed in place. He wanted, needed, people in positions of power in order to see his own aims carried through. Certainly not people who had been cast out of the Underdark either. Of course he might see another way to use them. Incite them to rebellion perhaps. Not that he needed people to cause damage and disruption with the Reavers under his command.

She debated whether she should repeat what she learnt at all or whether it would only make him angier.

"Is there a place I can add my Masters things to the wagons?" she asked, and when he nodded and pointed her in the right direction she set about being the good servant and taking care of her Lords things.

 

[Velkyn]

"Oh I'm sure there is." The Old man said, though it was all he said.

He did not lift a finger to help her, nor did he try to point out where she might actually lay Velkyn's stuff. Instead he only sat in place, as though he were waiting for something else to happen. His ancient and gnarled hands resting on an equally old walking stuff.

His eyes didn't even seem to look at her.

After a brief moment he looked down at the Avendrow. "Find it?"

He asked, almost as if he had expected her to move half a dozen times over by the time he spoke. His expression bearing no mark of jest or joke.

 

[Xylthe]

"Find... what?" Xylthe asked with a blink. She had just spotted a gap amongst the wagons she thought would be enough for Velkyn's things and had just begun to move towards it when the old man asked his question. She hesitated, torn between staying and hurrying on with her tasks. People were mounting again and servants were clambering into wagons. Some had already begun to roll into the tunnels with lanterns jutting out over their donkey's heads to illuminate the way. The Aevendrow decided it was best to get her things secured and hurried on to do such a thing before the wagon followed the others into the gloom.

Huffing out a relieved breathe she then clambered ungracefully back into her saddle.

 

[Velkyn]

The Old man didn’t answer, only smiled. He remained in place, lingering for a few more seconds as he seemed to watch.

When Xylthe turned, after she had clambered up into her saddle and found her perch she would notice the old man gone. A simple turn on the head, a sweep over the crowd, and she would find that he was nowhere to be seen.

”Have you learned anything?’ Velkyn said as he trotted by his servant.

There was an ease to his voice. Clearly he did not think she would have much yet, but always there was an expectation. That was how it was, how it would always be. The pressure of the chain around her neck.

Other riders began to move around them, the group slowly descending into the darkness of the tunnel.

None of them were silent of course, all carrying on one conversation or another as the hunt began. Lord Yithrel took his place at the head of the column, his voice blustering out in the ancient tunnels.

Xylthe would notice a long, exasperated sigh escaping Velkyn.

 

[Xylthe]

After wrestling needlessly with the horse which was happy enough to follow Velkyn's of its own accord, Xylthe reined in beside him.

"I do not know any of them, My Lord," she sighed and kept her head and voice down meekly so as not to draw any attention from the others they were discussing. "I thought it strange I wouldn't recognise them if they were from the city but it seems most of them are not. They are all Lords cast out from the city for one reason or another, though they are all still wealthy. I am not entirely sure why the Lord Yithrel keeps them as friends as they do not provide much political help here, unless he perhaps trades with them still in the Underdark."

Or maybe the fellow simply had friends.