Private Tales Through the Mists

[Keyleth]

The servant looked noticeably relieved that the barbarian consented to the suggestion, and he hurried to prepare the bath for him. Water was drawn into a tub that lay flush with the stone floor in front of the windows, surprisingly, steam rose from the tub once it was full. The servant then added several different scented herbs and ointments into the water, hoping to give their guest a more inviting scent that the sweat he had arrived with.

Once his task was done, he gave a small bow and quickly scurried out of the room.

Keyleth's bath was an unpleasantly thorough affair. The two servants never leaving her a moment of peace as she had tried to relax in the warm water. Long ago she had marked this down as a reason why she disliked nobility. She missed being able to bathe by herself. Perhaps once everything was settled, she would be able to regain some personal freedoms. Choosing her battles carefully was vital to her survival at this point, rocking the boat in too many places at once would make her position untenable for the nobles that already sought to usurp the throne.

That was also the reason why she bothered with dressing in a gown for court. If she broke too many traditions too quickly, odds were that more of the noble families would turn against her. This was all a part of the game that she had to play. Appease the men in one way, so that she may do as she wished in another. If she could get through these next few months, however; she stood a chance at giving her a daughter a better future if she should return to Minaris.

The servants had selected a fitted ivory gown that was cut low over her chest. One of the delicate sleeves only went partially down her right arm, while the left slipped nearly past her hand in an elegant flare. Golden accents were woven into the trim in a vine pattern. It was a pretty thing, Keyleth would admit privately to herself, though she thought it was out of place on her body.

Once she was dressed, she ushered the servants of the room, telling them that she would be along shortly. Finally alone, she took a deep breath and stretched her arms over her head. She took a few moments to simply enjoy the silence, before she walked over to her desk and pulled out a simple strap that she wrapped around her thigh; allowing her to sheath a small dagger beneath the skirts of the dress. One rule she refused to adhere to was that a woman should not be armed a court.

She looked herself in the mirror briefly, tucking her brushed locks behind her slightly pointed ear. Every time she caught a glimpse of herself like this, it still caught her off guard. Still leaning against the wall behind her, she could see her armor and weapons in the mirror's reflection. It was like staring at two opposing selves at once.

Her fingers brushed against the golden choker that was clasped at the hollow of her throat, and she sighed.

Shaking her head, she turned and walked out of the room.

The days of leaving Minaris in the hands of those above her was long past.

Spoiler: (( Her dress ))

 

[Thren]

Once he was in the bath, Thren decided not to move.

It had been quite a long time since he had been able to actually wash himself. Aboard the ship it had been difficult enough, and some of the sailors had balked when he'd stood nude in the middle of a storm. Cleanliness among the Siruk was important.

Though there was no real evidence to back it up on their part, traditions maintained that a man who kept himself clean was less likely to fall to disease and other ills. Thren had no idea whether or not that was true, but having been brought up within his tribe had instilled a need to bathe more often than not.

Thus, the warm water of the tub was enough to keep him satisfied.

He lounged quietly, one leg sticking out of the water and hanging over the edge of the metal rim.

His mind was consumed with thoughts of future plans, of what he'd gotten himself into and where he would go from here. The fog still surrounded the city, and he doubted that it would ebb away any time soon. That meant in order to leave he had to endure it's trials once more.

Thren wasn't entirely sure he'd live a second time.

 

[Keyleth]

The Duchess arrived in the main hall just as the sun was settling over the horizon. Off in the distance, she could see the mist wall glowing a brilliant reddish-orange hue as the sun faded away behind it. In a certain way, it was beautiful; in another, it was ominous. Keyleth couldn't decide which was more fitting.

Lord Cossick had arrived as well, along with his eldest son.

Steeling herself, Keyleth turned towards the pair as they approached. There was still some time before the meal was to begin, and she had promised to hear the man out. Again.

"Lady Selai." Cossick growled, bowing his head in a forced manner. His son mimicked the gesture.

Keyleth clasped both her hands together just below her bust for a brief moment, then gestured for both men to straighten themselves. After the movement, her hand returned to meet the another at her chest. It was a regal pose, one that she had picked up on to stop herself from fidgeting when she was first introduced at court. "Lord Cossick." She repeated, turning her gaze to his son. "And young Charn."

"How may I be of service?" She asked, arching a brow subtly.

"My Lady, I do not wish to pry, but it has come to my attention that you've refused Lord Galai's offer for your hand? May I ask why? I sent him to you specifically because I thought the union would be amicable."

She stared back at the man, a few servants nearby quickly bustling off to another table to set up. "There are several reasons why I declined the offer, Mathias. The majority of which are my own."

"But you and I had an understanding, Duchess. These are trying ti--"

"I told you that you could send whomever you wanted. I did not agree to accept any such offers." She cut him off, her blue eyes flashing dangerously. "I will not be married off to some pawn of yours at your whim." She whispered to him, taking a step closer. "Do not speak to me of trying times, sir. Minaris stands on the brink, and you are too busy playing matchmaker to take notice." Her voice was low, taking care to not shout at the man, as she didn't want her voice to carry in the large room.

"When my daughter, the Duke's rightful heir, returns then we may discuss the matter of marriage in more detail." She finished, then swept her arm out towards the tables. "Until then, Lord Cossick, please take your seat and enjoy supper. It will be ready soon."

 

[Thren]

As long as anyone could remember the Siruk had worn armor. It was a tradition that ran almost as soundly as those of breathing. The Armor was forged of star metal, a substance that was supposedly derived from falling earth that came from the sky.

Thren's own armor was made of the stuff, though whether or not the metal had truly come from the sky was not something that he could have said truthfully. Still, the sleek black platemail was something to behold, and once it was properly polished even the wealthiest Knight of Vel Anir would be more than a little jealous.

Not that it had been polished in a while.

Right now the armor appeared as though it had been through a dozen battles. Deep gauges and thin cuts ran throughout the plate, and the heavy spikes on the right pauldron still had a little bit of dried blood on them. This was of course, on purpose. Thren's armor was meant to be intimidating, stopping fights before they ever even got started.

As he strapped on the last plate, Larik looked up at the Barbarian with a sidelong glance.

He smiled at the Hound. "I suspect this night will be quite fun."

Just why he thought that Thren wouldn't have been able to say, but as he strapped on his daggers to the small of his back the Warrior shifted slightly. A glance into the large mirror at the corner of the room was all he needed, and without another word to his hound he stepped out of the room. A servant there balked at him for a second, clearly expecting him to be a tad more...well dressed.

"Take me to wherever this...dinner is held." The Amazon had mentioned food, and that was all Thren really cared about, but there was another motive at the back of his mind.

 

[Keyleth]

The servant blinked several times at the tall barbarian, but he nodded quickly and scurried off to lead Thren back to the main hall where the meal was to be served. It was quite clear he was uneasy taking such an aggressively dressed stranger into the hall. Voices filtered through stone corridor as they approached and he hesitated at the door, then looked back to Thren. "Right through here, sir."

Keyleth exhaled a soft breath as the Cossicks sulked off to find their seats. A tension eased from her shoulders, though she knew the issue was far from dealt with. It would only be a matter of time before he raised the topic again.

She paced through the gathering crowd as more people arrived. It took her ages to reach her seat at her own table, having to greet and speak with each and every person that crossed her path. There was a warm smile on her lips when she spoke with them, exchanging pleasantries for a short while before she continued on to the next individual.

A door opened on the side of the hall just as she reached her seat. Her gaze automatically turned towards the sound, expecting to see a few more servants shuffle in, or perhaps a pair of nobles who had snuck off for a dalliance in one of the back corridors.

 

[Thren]

Through that door stepped Thren, his armor in the same state as it had been when he'd first entered the fortress, his gaze falling over those within the hall.

He showed not the smallest amount of concern about his own appearance, nor the way that the nobles in the room looked at him. The Barbarian stepped into the dining room without so much as a greeting or an introduction, simply walking where he pleased and doing as he wished.

Thren was under no illusions of what he was.

The Siruk were not Noble, they were not graceful, and most importantly they did not fit into the puzzle pieces of ordinary life. Thren did not belong here, he knew that, and so did everyone else in the room.

That did not mean, however, that he would not take his place anyway.

 

[Keyleth]

For once, almost everyone's eyes were off of Keyleth. It was a brief moment of reprieve for the embattled duchess.

All eyes in the main hall swiveled towards the new comer, whispers spreading through the crowd like wildfire.

Part of Keyleth was tempted to leave the matter be, and to let the gathered nobles puzzle through the mystery for the rest if the night. It would give them something else to talk about for a few hours, at least.

Instead, she knew that she should say something. Or else darker rumors would start to spread.

Sighing softly, she pushed herself to her feet.

"Worry not, my friends." She explained, gesturing towards Thren with the arm that was fully covered by the thin, mesh sleeve.

"The Mainlander only wants for warm food and a comfortable bed. A survivor a shipwreck, and a guest of the Sabel family; I ask that you make him feel welcome during his stay."

Her people were an honorable breed. With Minaris so isolated from the rest of civilization, it had become vital that they band together and aid one another when it was needed. This ingrained need to help those around them eventually was codified, and set into law under the Draconic Code.

Of course, she knew to the Mainlander that it would probably seem as if she was showing off; but in truth, she was invoking the law of the land: An individual in need of assistance could not be ignored, and certainly not attacked. It would also explain his presence and state of dress in as few words as possible.

However, it did open the doors to other speculations.

If he could pass through the mists, what else could?

 

[Thren]

Thren seemed almost amused when the woman spoke, explaining his intentions within this land.

In an odd way though the tension in the room only increased. He could not have said why, but he could feel some of the nobles eyeing him. Most of them were simply curious, something he understood, but others he could have sworn were standing on the edge of a knife.

They saw him as a tool, or an obstacle.

Briefly the Siruk wondered what they would do if he killed one of them. He imagined that a few were fine warriors, the Amazon had to be, but snapping one of their necks would be easy enough to do before anyone could stop him. The brief musing flashed through his mind, but he let the idea drift away.

Thren wanted to make it out of here alive after all.

 

[Keyleth]

Keyleth watched the barbarian's impassive features as he took in the sight. There was an almost predatory glint in his eyes. He was dangerous. She was sure of that. His little display of keeping up with a great elk at full stride had made that abundantly clear.

She hoped that she hadn't made a mistake by not killing the man on the boat. How much damage could he do if he felt so inclined to do so? Still. It was their way if life. They did not offer help to others because it was easy and safe.

Her gaze shifted from Thren to a servant that hovered nearby. She dipped her head once and took her seat.

"Let us eat."

There were empty seats scattered throughout the hall, even a few at Keyleth's table, though those were reserved for family and guests. She did not beckon the Mainlander to sit with her. If he did not wish to be in the limelight, she would not force him into it needlessly. He was free to do as he wished.

 

[Thren]

He watched in silence for a few more moments, observing those in the room. A few began their meals, but most looked around just as he was doing. There was a smell of curiosity in the air, but it was more than just about him. He was an outsider, but of little regard to most of these people.

No, not of the interest seemed to lay with the woman that he had first met on the ship. They spoke of her, quietly whispering, gossiping, glancing and plotting. It was odd to him that they would be so brazen about it, but then, nobles never really had much sense in the first place.

Eventually the hunger in his belly got the better of him.

Without any hesitation Thren crossed the room, not stopping even as he heard a man whisper about him. In due course he found himself at the same table as Keyleth, pulling an oddly ornate chair free and sitting himself down.

His armor made a slight clink noise as he sat.

 

[Keyleth]

It was a mild surprise that the barbarian chose to sit himself with Keyleth, but she made remark on the matter. She raised a crystal chalice and smiled over the brim of the glass to Thren before taking a sip.

"Satinberry Mead." She explained, offering a decanter filled with the near black liquid. "Most mainlanders don't have the stomach for it, but I feel like you might."

In truth, most people who weren't native to Minaris could only imbibe a few sips of the rich drink before it left them in a near stupor. Keyleth had always found a small amount of amusement in watching the guards that accompanied the outsiders try to keep up with her own soldiers. Few had succeeded, but it was great fun for everyone involved either way.

Her eyes flicked briefly around the gathered people below, and she frowned slightly. Something niggled at the back of her mind, but she couldn't place it.

 

[Thren]

Thren grabbed the decanter around it's neck, sniffing the liquid for a moment before tipping the flask to his lips and taking a large sip of the mead.

There was a slight burn down his throat, a pleasant tingle on his tongue, and he smiled brightly as he took another heavy glug of the liquor. "Delicious."

He commented, swirling the decanter before he quickly took another drink.

Most of a soldiers life was spent doing one of three things; fighting, sleeping, or drinking. The latter was always slated for after a battle...usually, and was ingrained in the Siruk customs almost as much as keeping oneself clean. Oddly enough, the two went hand in hand together.

His people created their own alcohol of course, though it was fermented from a type of mushroom that grew in the Spine. It was quite a bit more bitter than the mead Keyleth had handed him, though also stronger.

Thren wished that he'd had some to offer, it felt rude that he didn't.

 

[Keyleth]

The duchess laughed quietly as the barbarian took a few deep gulps from the decanter. If they hadn't been in such a public place, she might have let her eyes linger on the way the muscles in his throat flexed while he swallowed. He was quite handsome, and there was no shortage of women staring at him already. He was something new and exotit, in a place where that was not a common occurrence.

"Don't be shy about eating." She added, gesturing to the table as plates of food were brought out. There was quite the selection: fish, wild game, a variety of fruits and vegetables, breads, cheeses. The island may have been isolated, but it was rich in natural resources.

The gossip never stopped, but Keyleth paid little attention to the quibbling.

She considered asking the typical mundane questions that might have been expected, but she doubted that Thren had much interest in bland pleasantries. "You've a talent at looking as if you belong in the strangest of settings." She mused, sipping from her wine.

"What was a man like you doing on a merchant ship?"

 

[Thren]

What happened next was more akin to the stuffing of his face than actual eating.

There was no careful grace to how Thren consumed his food, in fact it was about par for the course for his appearance. Various meats, cheeses, and breads were thrown into his waiting maw. Oddly enough though, the style of eating seemed to rather suit him. Almost as if it would have been weird had he done it any other way.

When she asked her questions he temporarily ceased his feasting, offering her a broad grin and gulping down the mouth full of food he'd been occupied with. "I'm a Mercenary."

The Barbarian said that perhaps a little too loudly in a room full of people that liked to speculate.

"The Captain paid me to protect the ship from Naga." He shrugged. "Turns out that wasn't the biggest threat."

Even he couldn't guard from fog.

 

[Keyleth]

"So, you have fought naga before then?" She asked curiously, taking small bites from her food while Thren wolfed his down.

Having lost so many people in the latest naga attack, any able-bodied soldier was a welcome sight. They were still reeling from the loss of their leader, and the majority of the spell weavers with him. A conventional fighting force against a naga assault was a brutal thing, doable, but hard won.

If Thren has survived and made it through the mist, how long until the naga did so again? We're they already pressing for another attack? Her gaze shifted towards the crowd of nobles as they gossiped about the various scandals that she had caused, or the appearance of this new mercenary. Were they all truly so oblivious to the dangers that lay before them? Or did they simply not care?

Cossick was staring at her. He raised his glass and smirked slightly before taking a sip. It made Keyleth's skin crawl. She had never liked the way the man looked at her before, now with Leonell gone, she loathed it. He was far more brazen these days.

Her attention drifted back to Thren, and she couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of him scarfing down every morsel in front of him. "Have a care not to choke, Mainlander." She used the term with a hint of playfulness, like a term of endearment for the man, instead of the scorn that most people used with it.

 

[Thren]

"I'll be fine." Thren stated simply, finishing off what might have been a plate of ribs and giving a slight belch as he did so.

A smile touched his face, but only for a second.

"The snakes and I are old friends." The words were said with more than a little bit of sarcasm. While the Naga were not exactly snakes, they were close enough that calling them as such was a little bit derogatory. They certainly didn't seem to like it, though he'd never actually held a conversation with one. "They're a common problem in the south, many villages hire mercenaries during harvest season to defend against them."

A sell-sword that planned well could make quite a bit of money during that time.

The Naga really never sent a large force when they raided, usually only one or two actual soldiers with some Geckans or lesser species to follow them around. They were dangerous, yes, but for a Siruk they were little more than an annoyance. As long as you prepared properly, you wouldn't die.

Thren always prepared properly.

He noticed a woman at one of the tables across from where he sat, her eyes fixed on him. The barbarian smiled at her, and then shrugged, his armor making a noise as he did so.

 

[Keyleth]

The shared look between the pair was noticed by the duchess and she smirked. She murmured quietly to the man as she drank, while making it look as if she was taking a drink from her chalice.

"That's young Lady Rosalyn. Pretty little thing, but a bit dense. She's the daughter of that man." She nodded slightly towards a brutish looking man with a squat face and two chins, both of which wriggled as he smacked his food. "Lord Norvus."

It was difficult to imagine something so dainty coming from such a hog of a man. Keyleth suspected that she hadn't in truth. She would know best, of course. The aforementioned Lord Norvus noticed that he'd garnished the duchess' attention and he raised a meaty arm over his head to wave in greeting. Portly as the man was, he was at least friendly and good-natured.

Keyleth returned the smile and raised her glass in acknowledgement, then looked back to Thren.

"Have you ever seen the Naga attack en masse?" She asked in a low voice.

 

[Thren]

"Once." Thren stated, glancing at the dainty little girl for a moment before returning his gaze to the Duchess. "In the Borderlands of the Delta."

He remembered it quite well.

It had been at the brink of Dusk, when the eyes of men did not see as well. The Naga had come swiftly and with no warning. They'd been more a swarm than a fighting force, cutting down anything and everything within their path. The small fortress they had assaulted had been ill-prepared.

Thren and a half a dozen other Siruk had been hired by a local Merchant to defend his caravan, they'd just been making a stop in the Fortress when the Naga came. Three of his brothers had died that night before they could escape, and everything behind them had been left burning.

"They only come themselves when they believe they can win." Thren commented dryly, his voice filled with more than a little bit of disgust.

Naga commonly used slave forces to do most of their fighting for them, a fact that among the Siruk was seen as utterly contemptible.

 

[Keyleth]

She nodded once, setting her chalice down on the table in thought. Her thumb idly traced around the lip of the glass as she stared down into the dark liquid. The Naga had pestered Minaris for years. The occasional raid on the outskirts, or little villages outside of the city walls. They had never been so bold as to attack the city itself so... What had changed?

"I've only seen it once before myself, as well." She remarked, taking a deep breath. "I had hoped perhaps it was a more common occurrence on the mainland, it would have at least provided some much needed answers."

The meal was starting to wind down. A few of the attendees rising to leave and shuffle off through the various side exits to make their way home.

Rosalyn was lingering at the table, though her father was starting to wrap up his conversation with his neighbor.

"If you try to bed the girl, I ask you at least make an effort to be discreet. She's already building herself a poor reputation of being a flirt. Best to not anger her father."

 

[Thren]

"Raids are common enough, but they use Geckans, sometimes goblins, and of course their little spiders." Little was of course the wrong way to describe them.

The spiders that fought for the Naga were great unseemly arachnids taller than a man. They could skate above the water and below it, their spindly legs enough to tear a man apart while their jaws ripped his flesh. Thren had seen it more than once, had even killed a few of the things.

"Larger attacks?" He shrugged. "Unheard of."

At least in any of the greater cities. The Naga knew that they would stand no chance if they besieged Vel Anir, Belgrath, or hell even Alliria. Against a city that was well defended they would be repulsed.

When Keyleth mentioned the girl he chuckled slightly. "The discretion will have to come from her."

The Barbarian glanced at the Duchess.

"I do not pursue women." He leaned back. "I just attract them."

No matter how much trouble they brought him.

 

[Keyleth]

Keyleth chuckled at Thren's brazen remark. She had little interest and in playing babysitter. There was little doubt in her mind that Rosalyn would throw herself at Thren the moment she caught him alone. "The girl is doomed then."

A part of Keyleth envied the freedom of making mistakes, and chasing after new flame whenever the whim struck her. As it stood now, she simply could not afford to be distracted with such thoughts. It had been a long time since a man had properly caught her fancy. Sure, there were plenty of handsome men roaming the island, but there was something different about finding someone attractive, and being attracted to them.

There was a moment of melancholy. One man had earned her affection years ago, but he was long gone now. Thinking of him caused her a great deal of pain, so she was quick to shove the thoughts aside and returned her attention to the conversation at hand.

If the barbarian had been trying to invite Keyleth to give chase to him, he would be sorely disappointed.

"And larger attacks are unheard of on the mainland, it would seem." She remarked dryly, raising her glass once more to drain the rich contents. "But it very much a reality here, unfortunately."

 

[Thren]

He perked an eyebrow in surprise. The Naga were hardly his main focus as enemies, in fact they were far from a concern for him. Though the Siruk had no natural homeland, where they tended to travel was on the other side of the Spine than where the Naga usually roamed.

Of course he'd fought them before, but they were hardly a foe he met regularly. "They must think you're weak then."

There was no insult to his tone of voice, not even the slightest hint of it. Thren was not attempting to slight Keyleth or her people, nor Minaris. It was simply one of the only two explanations that could exist for a full-scale assault. At least to his mind anyway, he was no expert after all.

"Or." He took another sip from the decanter. "You have something they want."

Though what that could be Thren couldn't even begin to guess. He mused for a second, then glanced around the room as he took another swig of the liquor he'd been given, the bottle nearly empty now. As he glanced around the room he noticed a few stolen looks from various nobles, some bleeding with hate. "Though I suspect they'll hardly be your biggest problem soon."

 

[Keyleth]

Her eyes narrowed slightly, and she frowned. The second option was the main reason why she'd sent her daughter away with the egg. Telling a mercenary that bit of history seemed brash, and she was not about to divulge what was hidden away beneath the keep. The Naga did not consider Minaris weak. She knew that much. They had been after something precious.

She reached over to take the decanter and refilled her glass. Her mind starting to work through the night of the attack once more. They had specifically gone to Aviana's room. And it was not a minion, or a slave, or a geckan; but a Naga commander. Or at the very least, what could be considered one of their commanders.

The rest of the attack was a concentrated effort, with the lesser fighters scattered throughout the village to cause chaos and serve as distractions; while the brunt of the fighting force worked its way through the keep. It should have been a labyrinth of corridors for the assailants, but they moved as if they knew where their destination was exactly.

For weeks now, Keyleth had anguished over the details, trying to piece together what had happened. How the Naga had known precisely where to go, and who to target.

When she looked up, Cossick was staring at her once more. A smarmy smirk on his lips. He raised his glass a second time.

Slowly, Keyleth set her glass down and stared the man back down. Cossick was a spell weaver, and a high ranking nobleman. He was supposed to have been in the chamber with her and Leonell when the spell had been cast... But he hadn't been. In the chaos of the attack, she'd believed he'd simply been unable to reach them in time.

But now, she suspected something far more nefarious.

Cossick stood the most to gain with Leonell out of the way. He had always pushed for his house to be given guardianship rights over the eggs. Or to at least be given one as a symbol of "equality". When the egg given to Aviana had woken from its dormancy, his requests had grown more insistent.

Leonell had refused to oblige him.

"I'm fairly certain they were never the biggest problem..." She whispered softly, feeling her stomach tighten in her gut. Nausea swept over her.

It felt almost like she was being paranoid, but she couldn't shake the feeling.

 

[Thren]

"Kill them." Thren said simply. It was really the easiest and most straightforward solution, one that anyone could come up with.

It was clear that the Barbarian either didn't understand the intricacies of politics, or didn't care. To him there was a problem, and it was a problem that could easily be overcome through the cut of a knife. Why bother beating around the bush. Why do something complicated?

The solution was so easy.

"Or I'll do it for you." He offered with a shrug. "Either way."

The Barbarian glanced across the room towards the man that Keyleth had been talking to. It was the same man that had approached them earlier, and his estimation of the fellow hadn't changed. Snapping his neck would be easy enough, even if he was hurling fireballs the entire time.

Without much thought Thren reached up and scratched his beard in consideration.

 

[Keyleth]

There he went again, making it seem as though things were so simple. Perhaps on the mainland, where nobles killed each other by the dozens on a whim; but here things worked differently. If she made such a move to kill those men, it would only make a martyr of them. Tales of a powerhungry soldier seizing control of the city through brute force would spread, and she would become a tyrant, or be killed.

In the same words, however, he made himself sound almost loyal. Which she wasn't sure she understood. The man was a self-proclaimed mercenary. Was he trying to get her to pay him? Or was he something else entirely?

"No. I need proof first. If I make a move against them before I can show my reasoning behind my actions, I'll likely tear the city apart in the chaos that would unfold." She murmured lowly.