Private Tales What Happens After

[Sybille]

Vel Ricon - The Painted Pony
Osbert

Sybille's jaw set, tightening ever so slightly as the jeer around the table continued to pick up.

"You're a pretty little thing."​

The man hovering at her side was close enough that she could smell his breath. A rancid scent came from his tongue, dark amber eyes hovering on the retired Dreadlord's form as he did his best to hound her like he had so many tavern girls. Her fingers curled on the table in front of her, teeth sinking into her lower lip as he continued to speak.

"Why don't you come home with me? Could show you a fun time."​

She tried to run through everything she had been told.

She tried to control the fury of roiling anger and disgust that coiled within her chest. The tips of her fingers drawing through the wood of the table in front of her as the man slowly drew himself up against her side. "Step. Away."

Her voice was a cold, seething steel. The man only chuckling slightly as he sat himself down in the stool besides him, fingers clutched around a full mug of ale. He looked her up and down, a predator studying what he thought was prey. The smile on his face only grew as he shook his head, as though rejection were something he could not even comprehend.

"Come on Doll, must be lonely. This city ain't a place to be by yourself. Especially for someone so deli-"​

Sybille whirled on him, her eyes flickering with bright red. The skin on her face fracturing with bright lines of red magma as she turned upon the man. "Step. Back."

She hissed, the man practically jolting backward and falling back from his chair. His eyes practically bugging out of his head as half a dozen men grabbed at his shoulders to drag him from his feet. A few cursing, some calling out the 'freak' sitting at the table. More than one reached for the knife sitting at their hip, caution ringing in the air.

"What the fuck are you, Freak?!"​

 

[Osbert]

An elbow dug further into the bar top as impatience grew. He'd watched three other patrons served prior to him. After the first he chalked it up as an oversight but by the third it was clear that this place prioritized the locals of Vel Ricon over outsiders like himself.

"What'll ye have?" a man with a gargantuan belly finally asked.

For one brief second Osbert just stared at the barkeeper. Judging him. "Sauvignon blanc. The 367 from," he'd wanted to say Oban but coin was getting a bit lighter these days, "Vel Ricon." At least if he ordered a local wine the next round might come a bit quicker.

The man gave a genuine smile before grabbing a bottle of white wine and two glasses. "The Ormiker Vineyard is one o'the finest in Epressa."

Osbert paid the man and gave him a nod. "Cheers." As soon as the interaction had finished he spotted the commotion back at the table he'd been away from for far too long now. Some fool barking up the tree that many at the academy had learned to avoid years ago.

He arrived just in time for the finale. Setting both of the wine glasses down on their table right as the mongrel finished uttering the word, 'freak.'

"That's no way to speak to a lady." Osbert's face wrinkled in disappointment and a flicker of his magic took hold. "Why don't you step outside and get yourself some fresh air?" In a matter of seconds the sack of shit was struggling to catch his breath as he stumbled out of the Painted Pony. Only upon exiting did the magic cease and oxygen freely flowed back into his lungs.

Osbert took his seat next to Sybille before sliding her a glass of the wine. "Sorry, apparently you've got to be friends with the owner to get a drink in these parts." He gestured towards the door that the foul-breathed man had just departed. "He seemed charming, though."

 

[Sybille]

A great chunk of the tension within her eased out of her body as Osbert reappeared at the table.

The slightly older Dreadlord had always had a calming effect upon Sybille. He'd always been good to her, even at the Academy where they had just been a year apart. Before the revolution he had been sworn to House Banick, and just at the cusp of the Revolution she had followed him there.

A decision which had been for naught at the end of the day.

"He almost ended up as a puddle." Sybille commented bitterly as she snatched the glass of wine from the table and brought it to her lips. She took a long sip, eyes closing as the liquid poured down her throat.

A deep breath passed through her before she placed the glass back onto the table. Half of the crimson liquid already gone. "Can you please, remind me why we're here?"

Sybilled asked, a tinge of desperation to her voice.

"This place is..." She glanced towards the scum that had been hitting on her. "Miserable."

 

[Osbert]

He waited until Sybille took a sip from her glass before he did the same. It wasn't a terrible wine but he'd certainly had better. This bottle likely would be at the very bottom of the rack at the Banick Manor, if it found a home there at all to begin with.

"A puddle might've suited him." He'd been too far away to catch the exact words exchanged but he could tell the guy's intentions from halfway across the room.

Luckily for the rest of the girls in Vel Ricon he'd tried his antics on a former Dreadlord.

Osbert let a small snicker escape his lips before flashing a smile at his redheaded companion. "Oh, c'mon, Vel Ricon isn't miserable," as soon as the words left his lips a gentleman four tables over turned from his companions and vomited upon the floor.

"Okay. So this place is miserable. You got me there." He took another sip from his glass of wine, trying to ignore the the travesty he'd just witnessed. "But we're here for opportunity Syb."

They'd both agreed that a lifetime of working with the same Anirian Guard that had destroyed their plans was unacceptable. But principles didn't keep your stomach filled. "Found a man who's got a job for us. Pays the equivalent of three months of a Guard's wages." Though Osbert hadn't been familiar with the man who they were expecting to meet within the hour.

 

[Sybille]

"Great." Sybille responded dryly.

Both of them receive a stipend from the Guard, and in truth it was enough to live off of...but beyond that? It might as well served as the the coins that could be found upon the street. It was nowhere near what the Houses had once offered them, especially Banick.

The stipend could barely cover the cost of one nights stay at a decent hotel, much less the lifestyle they had been promised.

"What do we have to do?" Sybille asked, just a hint of her usual terse tone missing. "Kidnap a Princess? Melt a dignitary? Steal some gold?"

She couldn't help but feel the conflict within her chest.

Unlike Osbert, she hadn't grown up entirely within the Academy. She had been raised in the Allir reach, away from Dreadlords, away from Proctors. She had only spent four years under the system he had grown up in, and yet she'd picked up many of the slights he had.

A long sigh escaped her lips. "Sorry."

Sybille said softly.

 

[Osbert]

"I dunno," he said honestly. "Guy was looking for two of our kind."

Ex-Dreadlords. Or, no, they were something different now. Still Dreadlords in a sense even if they didn't directly serve the Anirian Guard. There was no doubt in his mind that if Vel Anir wanted to they'd summon Sybille, Osbert, and every single one of 'em back into service. You didn't just ruin childhoods and spend years honing human weapons to let them float off like leaves in the wind.

"Ceja told me about it. He's worked with this guy before."

Osbert had left that part out when he convinced Sybille to come. Ceja was particularly bloodthirsty, even for the academy, and truthfully Osbert didn't care for the guy. But Os had a way of getting along with anyone, even those he despised.

Before he could say more though he simply looked at Syb, alarm in his features. "Sorry? You're sorry for what?" There wasn't any harm in being unsure about all of this. The chances they were going to be asked to do something that was legal seemed pretty slim judging by the pay.

 

[Sybille]

"Ceja?!" Sybille asked incredulously, forgetting her apology entirely. Lips immediately thinning and features turning into a mask of disapproval and anger.

"The guys a fucking psycho, Os." Which was saying something for Dreadlords. "I once watched him peel a guys skin because he thought he was lying."

Thought as it turned out, none of them had been. Ceja was the type of Dreadlord that gave them all a bad name. The sort who relished the violence and blood above anything else. He didn't care for station, wealth, or luxury.

All that scum had ever cared for was getting to the next dark room. "I'll kill some people."

She told him.

"But I'm not going to..." Her voice broke slightly. "I'm not going to-"

Sybille half choked on the words, not able to finish the sentence.

 

[Osbert]

Auburn hair ruffled as he shook his head in defeat. "Yeah, I know, the guy's a piece of work but he wasn't lying about the pay." And he didn't need to point out their need for coin.

Osbert's face softened as he watched Syb struggle. She was strong, no one could survive the academy for four years and graduate without strength, but not having to live there from the earliest part of her childhood afforded her a level of empathy that many of the other Dreadlords lacked.

It was part of why he was so fond of the girl.

"You never have to do anything you don't want to ever again." His tone was serious and exact. "They took a lot. First the academy, then the revolutionaries. But no one's ever forcing us to do anything we don't want to ever again."

He flashed a smile before continuing, "if you don't feel ok with whatever this job is we head down to Vel Luin. Work the docks for a few days." Though it was hardly his first choice.

 

[Sybille]

Sybille could practically feel her conscience churning in the back of her head.

Osbert had been a large part of why she had survived the Academy. He had shown her a dozen tricks and tips to get through the Proctors tortures. Without him she would have crumpled into a fragment of herself. She would have been nothing less than the weapon that they had wanted her to be.

Without him she would have broken.

Sybille knew that, and every word he said reminded her of it.

He wasn't trying to guilt her, she knew that. But she couldn't help but feel the gentle tug at her heartstrings as she spoke. Her eyes squeezed shut for a brief moment, and she shook in a sharp breath as she nodded her head. "No."

She argued. "No."

"We're not dockworkers." They weren't meant to be. "Lets hear Ceja out."

Sybille tried to make her voice a bit stronger. "Maybe after we can afford a nicer room or two."

She said with a smile.

 

[Osbert]

Let’s hear Ceja out. A man known for peeling the skin off others because he thought he was being deceived. A man who severed every toe on an orc they’d captured simply for fun.

That’s where they were at now. Hearing someone like him out.

”I think I’d be a great dockworker,” he said with a smile. Though it was difficult, even for him, to find much joy in their current predicament.

After a time the pair finished their glasses of wine, though a bit begrudgingly due to the taste, and while Osbert debated another round he witnessed the odd couple waltz into the Painted Pony.

Ceja was his typical self. Full of bravado, skin the color of snow, hair black as night, and a grin that insisted he’d have no qualms mutilating you before he shook your hand. His associate was a bit more put together. Hair slicked back and a winning smile. They sat directly across from Sybille and Osbert.

“Nice seein’ ya,” Ceja commented clearly a bit surprised that they’d taken the offer up.

Then the man with the winning smile spoke. In a clear and confident voice he simply stated, “mister Ceja here says you two are going to see my property returned. You should know the thieves that took it away were quite dangerous.”

Osbert gave Sybille a glance. Last chance to decide to be dockworkers. ”Thieves of any stripe aren’t much of an issue,” he said before glancing at Ceja, ”though the two of us would prefer to work alone. No offense old friend.”

He wasn’t sure if that sort of gambit would work but it was worth a try. Getting the psychopath off their team would ease Syb’s tensions and permit Osbert from constantly having to keep one eye over his shoulder.

 

[Sybille]

Sybille tensed the moment Ceja and his companion walked through the door.

Her face became that trademark listless mask, the disinterest a front for the anxiety that now seized her spine. Her fingers curled on the table. A long breath drawing into her lungs as she quelled the emotions rushing through her. She stared straight ahead as the villainous Dreadlord strutted forward, sitting himself down directly opposite Sybille and offering her a cocky smile.

She didn't offer any greeting as Os set straight to business, knowing that Ceja would just take the opportunity of whatever she said to dig in. The man had a way of getting under ones skin, in more ways than one.

"Sorry, but there's no chance of that."​

Fingers tightened into a fist as the man denied Os' request.

"I don't know either of you, and what the Thieves took was worth a pretty penny. No offense, but I don't trust you won't just be runnin' the second you have it."​

Sybille mask broke ever so slightly, lips turning into a frown as she continued to stare beyond the two men. She wanted to jump out of her seat and scream at the idiot. You don't trust us but you trust this slithering fuck?

The words rang in her head.

"Don't look so dour, Syb. It'll be fun workin together again. Besides, someones gotta make sure those thieves get the proper...punishment."​

Ceja offered a wolfish grin to them as he finished speaking.

 

[Osbert]

Damn. Was worth a shot.

Osbert clenched both fists under the table and for the briefest of moments he considered standing up and walking out of the pub. Working with Ceja was like riding a wild stallion, there was no telling if he'd help get you to your destination or if he'd buck you off this mortal coil on a whim.

"No issues," he said after regaining his composure, "the three of us will get your property back."

His smile was less welcoming when he turned his gaze towards Ceja. The guy was paler than a ghost with teeth the color of corn. Everything about him bothered Osbert. "Syb's just fine Ceja," he'd hoped she could at least force a smile at that, "why not let us handle the punishment once we catch up to these theives?"

Ceja's wolfish grin turned into a haughty laugh.

"No chance, not gonna let you two have all the fun."​

At that their benefactor cleared his throat and examined both Osbert and Sybille. He pulled out two small coin purses and dropped one in front of both of the Dreadlords he'd just met.

"There's the deposit. You get the rest when my amulet is returned. Ceja has the details of the group of thieves that ran off with it. It's valuable and those goons have no idea who they've trifled with."​

He slammed his hand upon the table and his cheeks went a shade of crimson as his voice increased a decibel.

"I wanted Dreadlords because I want them to suffer."​

 

[Sybille]

Some within the tavern glanced over towards their table as the man bellowed out his boisterous declaration. A few shook their heads, but most of them immediately turned their eyes on Os and Sybille.

Eyes that had once looked at her with curiosity and intrigue now turned to fear. A look that she had seen more than once even before she'd come to the Academy. Sybille ignored them, instead continuing to keep the listless mask on her face.

They didn't matter, none of them did.

"We'll head out in the morning, and I'll personally ensure they suffer, My Lord."

Ceja's tone turned to what Sybille recognized as mocking. The other man wouldn't know it, but the sound still rung in her ears from years on the training yard. Her eyes flickered in movement for the first time in minutes as she interjected. "No."

That ball of anxiety flickered out as she spoke, not because she feared Ceja or anyone else at the table. No, what brought it on was the thought of spending any more time with the sociopath that she needed to. So she continued to speak, her voice practiced steel hiding urgency.

"We should leave tonight." She continued in that strange monotone. "Every minute they have ahead of us will just make it harder."

Ceja frowned, having clearly intended to spend the night carousing with whatever waitress he could tell enough lies to.

 

[Osbert]

Inwardly, there was a portion of Osbert that felt disarmed. Unprepared for this sudden shift in Sybille’s behavior.

But outwardly?

”I agree,” his smile never faded as he went along with the redhead’s plan. ”These people wronged you my lord. We shouldn’t allow them another sunrise.”

Osbert had always had a useful magical talent and a decent set of martial skills. But what really set him apart from the rest of his class was the ability to get along with anyone. The ability to inspire others. A natural gift of the tongue that the academy likely could never teach him.

”Don't you think so Ceja?”

This was it. The crowning moment to Syb and his gambit. Either Ceja would feel compelled to go along or he’d shame the two of them.

”I agree. The sooner we hunt these fiends down the better m’lord.”​

Anyone who’d spent a significant time with Ceja knew he was lying. Knew he’d wanted to spend the night intoxicated and bedding locals. But their employer seemed pleased by the trio’s eagerness so Ceja’s options were currently quite limited.

Osbert just hoped that play didn’t bite them in the ass later.

 

[Sybille]

One anxiety was quelled with a steady sigh of relief, and another quickly took it's place as her gaze flickered over to Ceja.

Sybille could see the annoyance within his face, behind the mask of pleasantry he had put up for the Lord. Her teeth sunk into her tongue, and for just the briefest second she allowed herself a reassuring glance towards Osbert.

The heartening experience that she looked for wasn't there was she noticed the crack in his mask as well.

Did I mess this up? The thought flickered through her mind. Was there a better way? Another method? Fuck."

Sybille cursed herself, fingers tightening. Small fissures of red flickering through the whites of her eyes as she felt her heart thundering in her chest. Her lips parted slightly and she took a deeper breath, trying to calm herself when finally she spoke. "I'll check our things."

She stated suddenly, pushing herself up from the table and stalking towards the stable entrance of the Inn.

 

[Osbert]

Osbert gave a careful glance towards Syb as she stood up from the table. "We'll be right there."

His words had been as reassuring as he could muster in the presence of Ceja and the guy financing this endeavor. Having to deal with Ceja was always going to be annoying but it would've been manageable. Now? Well now they were dealing with a pissed off and likely unpredictable Ceja.

Worst still, Sybille was on edge. She seemed to be hiding it well enough but Os picked it up almost immediately. No doubt Ceja probably spotted it too.

For a fraction of a second he couldn't help but think this had been all his fault. He'd been the one to pick out the job, he'd been the one who thought Ceja wouldn't be so bad for one quick job, and now it seemed like he might be the one who got them into the worst pickle they'd been in since the revolution.

"Right," he said with a winning voice, "so where exactly do we think our thieves got to?"

---

As Ceja and Osbert exited the pub and headed towards the stables the pale and lanky Dreadlord draped and arm around him. In a wide smile he stared over towards the oxygen-manipulator and Osbert could smell what the scum had eaten for breakfast, lunch, and dinner that day.

"So, you and your little girl thought it'd be a neat idea to ruin a night of debauchery, paid for by that fuckin' buffoon who's hiring us, and I'd just what? Be alright with it?"​

He tried to extend the distance between their faces but Ceja's grasp limited his movement to a few millimeters."We're just in a hurry old friend. Syb and I didn't mean anything by it."

"No worries, old friend, but just know that I'm going to have a lot of fun tonight one way or another."​

 

[Sybille]

Sybille, quite luckily, didn't overhear the small conversation between Ceja and Osbert. The threat alone likely would have seen her melt him, though the other Dreadlord would have made sure to make her feel every little ache of pain she could before he met his own.

None of that happened though.

Instead Sybille only saw as Ceja and Osbert broke apart, her gaze lingering on the latter of the two with a slight frown breaking her listless mask. "We have what we need."

She declared, trying to keep that emotionless tone. "Do you know what direction they headed?"

Even speaking directly to Ceja made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She wasn't afraid of him, no, that was what she told herself. She just hated him despised him. She knew her own power was greater than his, and that was all that mattered.

That was what they'd always said at the Academy.

"Course I do, Red."​

Ceja said as he swaggered over to what Sybille presumed was his own mount. The horse looking less than thrilled when the Dreadlord approached.

"Idiots didn't cover their tracks well with the Servant they bribed, and he was very talkative."

The chuckle which echoed from his lips was enough to turn most stomachs. A sickening sound that scratched at her inner ears. Lips thinned as she bit her lower lip, casting one quick glance over towards Osbert before she nodded.

"Then lets get going." She said, pulling herself up into the saddle.

 

[Osbert]

Osbert gulped silently as he contemplated what Ceja’s particular brand of “fun” would entail.

Regardless the maniac released him and the two separated as far as societal norms would allow without being awkward.

A smile and a nod followed Sybille’s confirmation that she’d gotten their supplies and horses prepped. His smile morphed into a scowl as the pale dreadlord spoke.

No doubt he’d committed atrocities to make that poor servant so talkative. No doubt he planned on treating any of the thieves with the same sort of viciousness once they caught up to them. If he could help it they’d grant any of the thieves they caught with a swift death. Spare them from Ceja’s cruelty.


Osbert flashed Syb a smile. ”Yeah, let’s go,” he agreed, ”sooner we catch we these thieves the better.”

The less time they spent with Ceja the better.

As the trio mounted their horses and began their gallop they made a course westward in the dark, small lanterns mounted on their steed’s and the stars above granting the only light.

”They've got a little wooden makeshift fortress in the middle of a little bog not far from here.”​

Meaning they’d need to secure the horses on the edge of the bog, the marshy land wouldn’t suit the stomping of hooves.

 

[Sybille]

The mention of a bog brought a scowl to Sybille’s face, the first active emotion that she had shown since Ceja and his Lordling had stepped into the tavern.

She glanced over towards Osbert to make her displeasure known. A bog meant water, and water was not something that she liked. Sybille could deal with it of course, it didn’t stop her, but the mere sensation of it made her teeth set on edge and the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

Traipsing through a marsh was no one's idea of fun, but for Sybille it was an especially unpleasant ordeal.

Still, she didn’t actively complain like she might have without Ceja here. Sybille knew that any such noise would just bring on the cut of his tongue, something she didn’t feel like enduring now or ever again. So the ride was suffered in silence, nearly twenty minutes passing before Ceja couldn’t help but break the peaceful quiet.

“So, whatcha been up to since the Revolution? Heard you got the rug ripped out from under ya.”​

The other Initiate shook his head, as though he were actually sorry about it.

“I myself got yanked from the loving arms of House Sirl, ah but there’s a House. They really let me…experiment.”​

Ceja seemed stooped in nostalgia as he said the words, Sybille practically hearing the longing in his voice.

 

[Osbert]

A bog meant water and Osbert didn’t need Sybille’s disapproving glance to know what that meant. He never truly understood her aversion to water, maybe it was tied to her magic usage or some past trauma, but he knew she took to water like a cat.

Still, she didn’t dare protest and Osbert didn’t care to speak while Ceja was there either. The silent riding with the sounds of night and the stomps of their horses was all the entertainment he needed.

Until the boredom got to Ceja that is.

”Oh, a bit of this, bit of that.” The first answer to the miserable Dreadlord was easy enough.

The second question posed was trickier, particularly after the quip about Sirl’s experimenting. With a guy like Ceja that only meant one thing and Osbert didn’t have the stomach to dwell on it.

After a forced smile he decided to chime in, if for no other reason than to spare Sybille from having to speak with the monster they were forced to work with. ”Yeah, bit of a rug pull I suppose. Banick were generous benefactors. Plenty of good food and wine, nice lodgings, and most of the work consisted of protecting members of the family or securing their trade.”

It had been why he wasn’t present for the worst of the revolution. Off in the Anirian countryside dealing with a rabble that threatened one of the orchards the Banick’s owned.

”Shame. I bet you two miss your fancy wines.”​

He let out an ominous snicker that Osbert could swear scared even the bats away from them.

”This whole revolution stuff ruined what was going to be a nice life for me. House Sirl had planned on building me a little basement for some of their less agreeable rivals.”​

It was hard to tell whether he was being honest. Ceja loved to brag but he also had a habit for stretching the truth.

 

[Sybille]

Every word Ceja spoke reminded Sybille of why she hated him so much. It wasn't just the casual cruelty, the sickening experiments he so enjoyed, no, it was his very nature. The way he carried himself, how he spoke to others, none of it had a single redeeming quality.

"That's a shame." Her tone was far too even to tell if she was being genuine or not, though Osbert wouldn't have to guess she was being entirely sarcastic.

"It really is, Syb. Would have been great."​

Ceja shifted slightly in his saddle so that he could look back at her. The moment he did, Sybille wished that she'd kept her mouth shut. It was a reminder of why she let Osbert do most of the talking. He'd always been better with words.

"You remember what I did to, Rijil?"​

Sybille frowned, the memory of watching Ceja maim their fellow Initiate flicker over their mind.

"Damien Sirl really liked that. He told m-"​

The thought of someone enjoying such a thing made bile rise in her throat. It made her thankful she hadn't joined with Sirl, and then at the same time bitter. "Shut up."

Sybille cut in before Ceja could finish.

 

[Osbert]

The hairs on the back of Osbert's neck stood up as soon as Sybille spoke the words, 'shut up.' He wasn't really enjoying Ceja's reminiscing and while he was certainly going to back up his friend the threat of violence just increased tenfold as far as he was concerned.

But, whether Ceja realized he'd never win a fight against both of them or if he simply prioritized the gold, the loose cannon they were with didn't immediately pull a weapon.

"Excuse me? It sounded like you just told me to shut up, little girl."​

There was an uneasiness now, a tension that wasn't present before.

"Rijil was a friend," Os cut in trying to defuse the situation, "bit of a sore subject. But wasn't Damien also a fan of hunting?"

Rijil wasn't really a friend, at least not to Osbert, but he was grasping at anything to change the subject. To discuss something other than Ceja's sick fantasies. "I believe you went with him and Brutus to go after some wild boars?"

"Aye. That was a fond memory. Poor Brutus."​

He'd died in the revolution, like so many of the other Dreadlords they grew up with. Slain by revolutionaries who claimed they were doing all of the Dreadlords a favor. Osbert wasn't a fool though, this distraction would only last so long and he'd need to keep an eye over his shoulder in case Ceja tried to betray them on this mission.

The man wasn't one to take a sleight very well.

 

[Sybille]

Sybille set her jaw as Osbert jumped into the conversation, the thin red lines within her eyes flickering for a brief moment as she struggled to control the spike of emotion that rattled through her.

A long breath dragged into her lungs.

The lines segmenting the white of her eyes shifted. A pulse ran through them, and then slowly like cracks within the earth they sealed shut. The breath she had been holding flowed forth, and she dragged her eyes away from Ceja.

Sybille knew there would be reprisal. Some way, some time Ceja would strike back at her. Either a cutting word or a knife pressed to her throat. I should just kill him now.

While his back was turned.

Before her fingers could twitch from the reigns she noticed the sounds begin to shift around them. Thick earth turned to wet mud. The trees around them became gnarled, and the unmistakable stink of a bog rose within the air.

Sybille's nose wrinkled, and she clicked her teeth as she steeled herself for the water.

 

[Osbert]

"But anyways, Brutus and I had tracked this stag all the way to the edge of the Falwood. Was a 20-pointer, speckled fur, muzzle like an oxen! You wouldn't believe it Syb, we was tearing out way through the brush for hours, and Os? Its blood smelled like-"​

Osbert had pulled his steed back slightly as he and Sybille exchanged nervous glances. Clearly Ceja was enraptured in whatever tale he was spinning about his hunting trip with Damien Sirl but what worried Osbert more was the look in Sybille's eyes.

They were of the same mind. At least he figured they were.

Ceja posed a threat and as Dreadlords they'd been trained to eliminate threats. The kicker was that Ceja was still vital for their mission and seeing as their benefactor was at least loosely related with the Anirian nobility murdering the man in cold blood wasn't on the table. If they wanted to stay above the law that is.

All of that worry, and thankfully Ceja's tale, ended as the smell of stale water hit their nostrils. The reeds ahead signaled the start of the marshy lands and the standing water they'd need to cross.

He pulled on the reins of his horse to slow its pace and said in a quiet voice, "we tie our steeds there." Osbert gestured towards a large oak with branches that spread wide to provide cover from rain and detection. Their horses would be safe, and likely, undiscovered by passerby's given the leaves and brush.

"According to our little mole our friends are that-a-way."​

Ceja's boney finger pointed out towards the center of the bog. It was obvious they wouldn't have the element of surprise though with three Dreadlords Osbert doubted if they'd need it. He gave a final glance towards Sybille to test her mood before shaking his head. "Right. Then we're off."

His boots sunk into the muddy ground as the trio bent low and prepared to make their way towards the wooden fortress.

 

[Sybille]

Sybille almost entirely forgot about Ceja when her boots hit the muddy ground and instantly squished down an inch or two.

The fetid smell of the swamp made her nose scrunch, and she was reminded how much she had actually hated missions. They hadn't been so bad when they were operating in a city or sent to bodyguard some lush of a noblewoman. Things like this though?

They were the next level of hell.

When Osbert offered his single final glance he would see a scowl that would have impressed a demon. Her expression was one of cold defiance, though whether of Osbert or the swamp around them was hard to tell. A few seconds later, with a monumental effort, Sybille dragged her feet forward and began to trudge after her companion.

She was slower than the other two, watching her every step and always attempting to make sure it was as dry as possible. When she finally caught up to Osbert she whispered to him. "If I fall into a single puddle I'm going to turn this entire region into a volcano."

Sybille hissed.