Private Tales Tomorrow's Eye

[Kael]

Kael placed a piece of parchment down, the last in his report about 'Guldara the Soothsayer'. It appeared she'd been in a Rovani band traveling across Anirian-aligned territory telling fortunes for around three decades. She'd only been on the Guard's radar for the last four months. It wasn't said explicitly on the report, but reading between the lines a captured Cortosi spy uttered her name as an informant. Kael and Kilien Basmarc had been assigned to infiltrate the Rovani band and determine if she actually knew any state secrets, if she was actually distributing, and potentially do something about it. At least officially. Unofficially, he was pretty certain they had authority to capture, or kill her if needed.

Kael was assigned this job as a natural extension of his talents and training, but Kilien was assigned because he had Rovani heritage. A fact that gave Kael all sorts of questions. Was this a twisted method of a loyalty test? Was Kael here as a 'cleaner' if Kilien couldn't handle the work? None of it made him comfortable. Kael took the report and put it over in the campfire. They were close enough to the band's rumored location that it would be unwise to keep.

"How's this?" Kael asked, then shifted into shape. As he did to make his normal human face, Kael had been piecing together bits and pieces of different Rovani. Aiming to make a cover, a man, that never existed. A way to be him, and yet only a shadow. If Kilien thought it was passable it would be his new skin for a while, however long this mission took.

 

[Kilien Basmarc]

This whole mission was fething bogus. There was no denying that Harkenov had singled him out as a means of torture, retribution, exacting her ire in lieu of simply beating him in her dungeon office. Whatever the case may be, he decided today that he truly did not like her.

You know the people, the language, and the culture, she'd told him.

You can get in close to them and learn the truth of things.

You can stop further harm from befalling Vel Anir, and ensure appropriate charges are brought to the guilty parties.

He'd spent the majority of the journey out in sullen silence, answering only questions that required it. Though by now he was feeling some sense of regret for Kael - it wasn't the Initiate's fault he was here, nor that they'd been paired together. When the boy finally spoke up at the campfire it yanked Kilien from his grousing with a bit of surprise.

Kil looked the other over, brow furrowed and facial scruff pulled into a deep frown.

"...well, you look the part alright," he admitted. Kael had apparently paid close attention to his description of the people and culture, though he hadn't expected him to get it so close on the first try.

"But you don't know the language or the customs. So what do you plan to do, act mute?"

 

[Kael]

Kael responded at first with a smile. Mimicking the form of another person, or even a quality painting, was not exceptionally difficult for a shapeshifter. Piecing together one from different pictures, descriptions, and thoughts was a more challenging task. At least for Kael. Basmarc might be able to detect a slight hint if pride grow in the smile, as though he finally understood a difficult math problem.

The next question turned his slight smile into a more puzzled look. Not that it was an unreasonable question, but that he didn’t really have enough to go on from the reports they were provided.

“Our reports don’t have much information I can use there.” Kael replied. “I would have expected more to be delivered. Sayings, history, accents, something more to go on.” He continued. Perhaps Vel Anir simply didn’t have a lot on the Rovani, but he suspected the exclusion was deliberate.

“I can play strong silent type if I need to, but do you have any pointers for me?”

 

[Kilien Basmarc]

“Our reports don’t have much information I can use there.” Kael replied. “I would have expected more to be delivered. Sayings, history, accents, something more to go on.”

"Yeah..." Kilien said over a disgusted look but didn't remark further. The lack of information was for him to fill in, he was certain of it. Though much could be said about the Rovani people, every family clan had their own little customs. He'd be able to get in with them for certain, but that didn't mean he'd get into the family's inner circle.

That usually required marriage.

Looking as though he'd recently downed a bottle of piss, Kilien glanced up at Kael again when the other asked for help on the matter. Right, this wasn't fair for either of them.

So Kilien took a deep breath and gave Kael an abridged version of basic social etiquette, common sayings, and standard guest procedure.

"I can't really help you with an accent," he admitted, "I've mostly lost mine. Haven't seen my family since I was nine. Maybe just, eh," Kil itched at the hollow of his cheek, "add some scarring around your neck and I'll just tell em you don't talk much after the hangin'."

 

[Kael]

While a little less moody than the last couple days ride, this mission was definitely taking a toll in Kilien. Kael didn’t know him well, certainly not well enough to offer aid, but he was obviously not his normal self. Mr. Carefree definitely cared about something. Despite this he still offered helpful information. How to say good morning, how not to offend a host, and other such pleasantries that would help him blend in a bit better.

“Hanging?” Kael responded. “Alright.” He said, and let magic flow through his neck. Some scarring drew itself across, and his vocal chords shifted.

“Let’s try.” He said, and then stopped. There was an obvious rasp to his voice, and it caused him some pain to speak. Magic flowed and put things a little closer to just so.

“Bad time with a garrote. Don’t talk much. Got it.” His normal voice returned, for the moment at least. “Anything else you want to cover before we go in tomorrow?”

 

[Kilien Basmarc]

What a trick, to be able to change one's image on a whim. Kilien could do something similar, but the results were rather less appealing to the majority of people he knew. If he had the ability to easily change his identity he didn't think he'd do it. He was too proud of his heritage to forsake it and perhaps too stubborn to give it up willingly after so much had already been taken from them for no good reason other than Vel Anir could.

"Yeah," he added soberly as he poked a stick at the fire to keep the flames going, "don't go kissing random women or you'll start a clan war."

Kael had a reputation now since Natalis that he wouldn't soon escape.

 

[Kael]

It had taken a few days, but the jab had finally been made. On one hand, it wasn’t pleasant being the butt of jokes, but that Kil had made the shot spoke to some amount of lightening up.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He replied. Though the pair both knew the events of Natalis were not something arrived at by simple chance. Rather, it was simple stupidity. A moment he’d be reminded of for quite a long time. While human mating rituals were still quite foreign to him, the concept of a clan war was assuredly not.

“Though it seems we’ll be in one soon regardless.” Kael added, speaking of the coming war with Cortos. It seemed that the pair would soon be fighting for another’s clan.

“I’m sure this’ll surprise you, but I’m not well versed in politics.” He said,making sure he didn’t add the word ‘human’. “To be truthful I don’t know anything about them. The Cortosi.” Kael’s gaze looked at the fire stoked by his partner. The realization hit him that very soon he would be killing people he knew nothing about because he was a coward, trapped as a super soldier.

 

[Kilien Basmarc]

"Mm," Kilien nodded, though did not voice the belief that he wouldn't be allowed anywhere near the war for reasons, "much bigger clans..."

Though on the topic of politics, Kil couldn't offer much clarity. "Me neither," he admitted, brows furrowed over the idea of further senseless, needless slaughter and destruction just because.

"I just hope they can fight back better than my people could." The Rovani never stood a chance.

~~~~~

They found themselves surrounded as they traveled a footpath through the craggy hills, Kilien leading his horse on foot as the thing had been acting up with him ever since they departed. He didn't bother to say why.

There were men and a few women, holding them both at sword and arrow-point. A few held crossbows which gave Kilien a hint that they'd been making use of their more subtle skills of taking what they needed. They'd been found out about a hundred yards outside of the small encampment. Hands in the air, Kil glanced back to his companion to see that he was doing the same.

"Amen na kamas te keras bilačhipe," he spoke out, causing their aggressors to pause, "Me sim o Kilien Basmarc thaj kado si muro amal o Mikael. Amen rodas than."

"Basmarc..." said what appeared to be the eldest of those assembled, one of the few with a crossbow. Grey streaked his shoulder-length dark waves and a pair of vivid greens looked at the pair of them from beneath a heavy brow, "that is not a name we have heard in some time. Prove yourself."

"Yeah... I wager there aren't many of us left," Kilien's hands met in the air as he removed one of his many rings and tossed it to the man, "my father's signet."

Catching the glint of gold, the man turned it over in his fingers, "And your friend," he nodded his head to Kael, "is he also a Basmarc?"

"No," said Kilien, "Dupreni."

"He does not speak for himself?" the man scowled, palming the ring and visibly pocketing it in his vest.

"Can't," said Kilien, and then made a common gesture of hanging. He waited a moment, his own eyes narrowing, and then took a step forward with his hands still in the air, "Have the clans wasted so much that they ignore their own laws of hospitality?"

There seemed to be an uncomfortable silence hanging over the group that surrounded them, many exchanging glances but waiting on their senior to decide. If Kilien had to guess, this was the Fa of the clan.

The man in question passed a glance around to his people and then nodded, "Forgive me, Kilien Basmarc, you are right. We are merely wary of strangers and your name is old, but unspoken. Why have you come here?"

"I've told you," Kil said more sternly, "sanctuary."

"From who?"

"Who do you think?"

"Aye," said the man, moving from his perch of the high ground to slowly stalk down toward the younger Rovani, "we are a small clan. If you have brought an Anirian force on your heels, we cannot help you and must turn you away. I must protect the family. You understand."

"We're not," grimacing, Kil lowered his hands but kept them both well in sight, "we are not being pursued."

"Then why do you need sanctuary?"

Kilien gave Kael a glance. He'd not expected the clan to be so suspicious. When he was young, asking for sanctuary had always been enough, but back then they were larger in number and strength. It was time to change tactics and looking at Kael gave him an idea. Kilien affected a look of dismay and leaned in toward the older man to speak lower, "A woman."

The man leaned in as well, brows raised, "A woman?"

Kilien shifted uncomfortably on the spot like the dog that had been caught de-stuffing the throw pillows, "A noble."

The man let loose a bark of laughter so loud and sudden it made Kilien's horse startled with a snort. He began to laugh and clapped Kilien on the back, announcing to the others in Rovani of Kilien's misdeed. Smirks and chuckling encircled them as arrow tips and swords lowered.

"You are the pear!" said the man with another laugh, "I am Fa Rochambeau," so he guessed right, "come, hide from your consequences for as long as you need."

 

[Kael]

Kael kept his hands up, trusting Kilien's lead. He had a loose understanding of Rovani culture, and felt it difficult to follow exactly what was happening, but was under no illusion things would be simple just because they looked the part. He'd fought enough goblins in another life who'd thought his clan conquerable. Keeping eye on their ambushers he noted quickly their characteristics. How many had crossbows, which ones had crossbows, how comfortable was everyone in their role. Many of them looked like his clan did, an overconfidence from fighting weak, but the Fa and a few of the elder fighters had experience. Confidence and yet humility. The half dozen or so were probably true fighters.

So few to defend their home.

The inflection point of the conversation, the laugh, brought Kael's focus back to his companion. The 'pear'. More local nuance to discover. With the Fa finally introduced and blessing provided the tension left the faces of their ambushers. Kael breathed, and shook hands with the Fa, giving a nod. The crew escorted the Kael and Kilien the next hundred paces. Kael paid careful attention to the people as they came. Children playing with wooden swords stopping to look at the new arrivals. The sound of a pan flute in the distance coming to a halt. He could tell no one would challenge the Fa, at least not now, but each member of the clan was sizing up the pair as they walked. They were wary, with their first instinct of protecting home.

Wouldn't be easy to get information then.

As they arrived into town Kael approached the nearest Rovani 'militia' member, if it could be called such, and but a measured fist on his arm to get his attention. The woman looked over at him and his neck expectantly. Kael pulled out a waterskin and opened it, before turning it over to show he was out of water.

"Well's not great, but I can show you." She responded. Kael motioned over to Kilien Basmarc. "He can come to I guess."

 

[Kilien Basmarc]

"Town" consisted of over a dozen wagon homes settled about the cover of crag and copse throughout trees and jutting boulder or stone. Horses were either tied to posts or standing within a corral. Campfires dotted the walkway thoroughfare. It was well hidden, given its remote locale, and the smell of the day's cooking brought a heavy wave of nostalgia to Kilien as they walked.

Their horses were tied to a standing post and the pair of them were lead further in. Fa Rochambeau, or Roche as Kilien heard a few others refer to him, stepped away to speak with the other clan elders on their new guests. He didn't get a good look at the wagons from the way they were hidden among the landscape, but he thought he saw a few familiar family crests and colors through the leaves.

His eyes next looked for Kael who he still had trouble immediately recognizing for his new face, but made contact with the gaze of the other Initiate and doggedly moved to follow. It was probably best that they didn't get separated for long seeing as how Kael really would soon be in over his head in cultural speak and context.

Spying the water skin in his companion's hand, he took the clue as he caught up, "Thanks, uh-"

"Roza," said the woman, she didn't look much older than himself.

"Thanks Roza, we've been in the saddle for ... a while."

"You know Basmarc," ah the Rovani accent was heavy on her tongue, all short vowels and rolled r's, "it's one thing to follow in the footsteps of your ancestors. It's another to live through them again."

"Ah-haha," Kilien lifted a hand to rub at his scalp, "yeah what can I really say. Guess all the Basmarc men really have an eye for things out of their reach."

 

[Kael]

Kael wondered from the woman's comments if his family had a history of sneaking into the private company of nobles. A conversation for later perhaps. As the trio walked over to the well Kael was able to little but observe and listen. He noticed that each of the wagon homes held small displays filled with sketches of family members. Kilien had told him a bit about this, a means of honoring passed loved ones. He found the concept a bit strange in truth. His kind could, in theory live through their forties, but life expectancy was much smaller. It was not uncommon for eighty of ninety percent of a tribe to turn over inside of fifteen years, so there was generally not time to dedicate to the dead.

One struck him though, a sketch of a woman holding a baby. It was difficult to tell with the medium, but she appeared no more than twenty years. Perhaps older than a senior initiate, but not by much. Kael gestured towards it.

"Roche's daughter-in law." Roza replied. "She didn't make it when the baby was delivered. We had to move three days prior and hadn't found a spot for camp yet. Hesod took care of the baby well, but it caught a sickness after three months. It is a tough subject right now that you should know to avoid."

Kael took off his hat in a sign of respect, and made a motion that his lips were sealed. The girl chuckled slightly and Kael returned his hat.

"I suppose so." She responded.

The well was not within the wagon-camp, but neither was it very far away. It was obviously much older than the encampment, but appeared recently taken care of. If Kael had to guess it war formerly used by a nearby village that either moved or found a better source of water. Kael began the process of drawing water from the well and filling his skin.

 

[Kilien Basmarc]

Hearing such stories saddened Kilien and plucked a heartstring he'd not felt vibrate with emotion in a very, very long time. Had things been different, had Vel Anir never come to Rova, then it was much more likely the Fa's daughter and grandchild would be alive and healthy. Rovani had their magics, but even among them Healers had become fewer even when he was a child. He could imagine that today, it was very likely only a few of the family clans had one.

"I am sorry to hear of it," he admitted to Roza while Kael began to pull up water.

"Te den la o balval," said Roza, kissing at her thumb nail, touching it to her forehead, and then splaying her hand open to the sky.

"Te den la o balval," Kilien repeated, words and action.

"You are very far north, Basmarc," Roza said as she leaned against the well, "wasn't your clan south in..."

"Amesford," he nodded, "that's where I was born anyway. On the coast just outside of South Ethel. Not real sure where they are now, haven't seen them since I was a boy."

"That's a long way to go as a boy."

"Easy trek to make in a prison cart." As Kael finished with his waterskin, Kilien moved to take his place and began the same process to fill his own. "We were up north for a wedding I think," his brows knit not in the effort of pulling water, but the effort of turning over memories that were already muddled by age, "between two of the major clans. There was a whole big reunion and ceremony. Guess we just got a bit too close to Anirian lands, I got picked up in the town market."

His own waterskin hadn't been too empty so it didn't take long to fill. He looked to Roza, "I can pull another bucket or two."

"One is fine. We'll need it for your horses. What's his story?" Roza nodded to the silent Mikael.

 

[Kael]

Kael was invited by Roza for a story. This was to be anticipated, and thus something Kael and Kilien had prepared for, if a bit hastily . While a convincing neck wound might have stopped him from needing to speak, it would not stop a curious or defensive people from wanting to know about him. Kael examined the ground around him and found a decently long stick. He procured the stick, tested it’s end and brought it to ground,

He began by poking little dots in a deliberate pattern, then a star to mark Vel Anir the capital. He would then point broadly in the direction of the nearest 'Vel' and then at it's spot on the crude map in the dirt beneath. He would then draw a box and a horse on the map, then point at himself. Then he would take his boot and kick at the box, and draw lines spreading in several different directions. He would go over one particular line twice, then point at himself, and then continue the trail. He would stop at a point, then draw a circle and continue the line up and out from it's circumference. He'd then point at his neck, then at @Kilien Barmarc. Having told the tale up to their unification, Kael would motion over at Kil to tell the rest of the story.

The whole charade was quite a hit more difficult in execution than Kael had thought it would be in concept. The Goblin was smart enough to slow as he got to particular lines or dote, trying to commit the process to memory. If he ever had to tell the story again, he wanted to make sure it would be consistent.

 

[Kilien Basmarc]

Roza looked as though she were trying very hard to follow, but seemed to grow more and more confused after the box and horse incident. Kilien, for his part, simply stood then, content with how well Kael had pulled his part off.

"Man," he said, hoisting an arm to lean it on Kael's nearest shoulder in a casual stance of kinship, "he's such a good story teller. Shoulda heard him before the whole-" and mimed the hanging part again.

Roza furrowed her brows and gave them both an incredulous look, "You serious?"

"As road rash from a hooked boot and a runaway horse," replied Kilien.

Rosa cringed and then gestured to ... Kael's story, "I don't understand. What is that box... is that a horse or a goat? Why was he in a box?! This is clear as-"

"Dirt?" Kilien finished with a smirk that Roza did not seem to appreciate.

Her glower drew deeper, "I can see why the Noble Lady's father chased you off."

"We had a frank exchange of ideas and his was pointier." At the next look he received from Roza he held up his hands, "It's really not that complicated. Mikael and I crossed paths in shackles right about here," he pointed to the line just after the exploded box, "we were both slated to hang. The guards just hadn't prepared for a prisoner with magic. I managed to get us out but I was a little late to the gallows."

Roza stared at him for a moment. Stared at Kael. Planted her fists on her hips, "Prove it."

Kilien blinked and looked momentarily confused, "I mean... look at his neck."

"Not that," Roza waved Kael's damaged self off like a pesky fly, "your magic."

"Oh... well magic isn't a toy-" Kilien cowed under the glare she gave him and slowly produced his wand from his inner jacket pocket, "but a little spell won't hurt."

Her eyes fixed on the wand, widening at the sight of it in clear disbelief. Kilien rolled up his sleeves a little and pointed his wand at the bucket of water. For several moments he murmured something under his breath, swirling the wand at the liquid which began to slowly swirl as if by a large, unseen spoon. He continued and the three of them watched as the water turned a deep reddish-purple.

"Water," Kil straightened and sheathed the wand back in its pocket like a Knight might its sword in a scabbard, "to wine."

Roza leaned down and dipped a finger in then tasted it with an immediate reflexive look of disgust.

Kilien shared a glance with Kael and shrugged. "I never said it was good wine."

The young woman shook her head in annoyance and promptly spilled the bucket with her boot, "I wouldn't even serve that to my ex. Get water for your horses and go find Fa Roche. He'll be looking for a place for you two in the camp."

 

[Kael]

Kael stretched out a hand to stop the woman, but was unable to get to her in time to stop her from sampling the wine. He knew didn’t know Kilien especially well, but well enough to know the short spell probably had a good punchline. Kael returned Kilien’s glance with a sort of half grin half scowl that implied he’d seen Kilien pull the trick before, and it was getting old.

Kael shoulder’s slumped as the bucket was poured. He crouched down and gave Kiliena look before starting to draw water from the well once again. Roza’s last statement intrigued him. Would they be finding a spot to put up some makeshift tent or would they be crammed into someone else’s space? The latter would make sneaking off and investigating quite a bit more difficult. At the very least it would mean Kael couldn’t speak to Kilien while they were at camp. The shapeshifter continued to draw water until he had sufficient water for the horses, then nodded at Kilien Basmarc that he was ready to go.

 

[Kilien Basmarc]

"I think she likes me..." Kilien muttered to Kael as he watched Roza stalk off along the pathway to the camp. With a smirk he helped with the watering of their horses once they'd returned and the pair of them wandered through the camp in search of Fa Rochambeau. Their presence drew many eyes though it was a far different sort of weight those gazes carried than were they eyes of Anirians. Curiosity, for the most part, a bit of wonder and humor as the reason for Kilien's arrival spread along the grapevine.

He felt right at home with it all. There wasn't an ounce of disgust and not a blink of malcontent that he could find. Strangers they may have been, but they were of their people and so the common courtesy of welcome was to be expected. Kilien took their stroll through the various tents and wagonhomes as a chance to get a better look at the family colors and crests that decorated them. That of deep purple, blue, and yellow was prevalent and he guessed it represented the Fa's blood and family. But there was also a wagon of black, green, and white - colors he recognized as belonging to the Monmartre family; and then another two of blue and white - a name that he thought he knew but did not readily spring forth from memory.

They found the Fa with a cadre of young children and another younger man close to Kilien and Kael's age. They were erecting a small tent and, apparently, taking the opportunity to teach the young children about hospitality and proper tentcraft.

"That's kind of you," Kilien remarked, "we'd've been fine with just a fire and our bedrolls."

"Mmm," the Fa nodded, "Ma Guldara has foreseen rain this evening."

"In the smoke?" Kilien asked.

"In her old bones," the Fa chuckled under his breath.

 

[Kael]

Kael shot Basmarc a look at the comments of Roza, but he couldn’t say he was wrong. Firstly because he couldn’t speak and keep his cover, and secondly because he noticed Roza deliberately drop the ‘ex’ line. Though he was loathe to admit, he had skimmed the book Kilien had sent him and had a mildly better understanding of human social situations. It was certainly a signal.

Kael walked with Kilien as they explored the camp. Kael took notice of the eyes, which were now mostly curious. He thought he one child point at the pair and then raise his hands and pretend to roar at another. Perhaps the rumors about Kilien were broader than the academy. Kael figured it was probably a prank orchestrated by a student, but if it was rumored here too perhaps there was a kernel of truth somewhere to be found. Hopefully not today, if Kael was honest with himself.

Kilien himself appeared to be in much more jovial mood then the previous day. He could tell the man was more at home here than at the Academy. He sympathized, and had better context for the moodiness the normally affable warlock carried on the way over. It was not a small thing that was asked of him. They found the Fa, and an assortment of younger Rovani working on putting up a tent. It was more hospitality than he expected, and certainly was used to.

As Kael went over to look at the work one of the children looked over at him and noticed the stick he had used to draw with earlier. The boy went over to Kael and picked up a stick with one hand, and put the other behind his back. He muttered some words Kael didn’t understand and flourished the stick. Kael smiled, and picked up his own stick and assumed a similar stance. Kael moved his stick instinctively to where the boy lead his, intercepting the blows just so. He let the boy swing seven times, and on the eighth he weakened his grip just before the blow and it fell to the ground at the boy’s swing. The kid rose his stick to point at Kael, who smiled and raised his hands. The boy was called over shortly after, and waved to Kael as he left.

Kael grinned, but said nothing and walked over to Kilien Basmarc and the Fa. Thinking he heard the mention of rain from there conversation he pointed upwards and looked quizzically at the pair.