Fable - Ask What Has Become of Us

[Aisling Weiroon]

A grin grew on Aisling's face as the conversation pushed forwards.

"Ah yes! Little Ralene," she agreed with Elise's words. Of course, it was obvious that the girl had spent most of her adolescence at the academy. She showed up at a high-end establishment adorned in a full set of armor. Most unusual but societal norms weren't as obvious to everyone.

Particularly those who were stripped from their life of nobility and forced into Dreadlord service. "You're quite intimidating Ralene," Aisling offered with a genuine smile, "I know that my father didn't speak to me for years when I became a corsair." A fate surely less strenuous than becoming a Dreadlord but a reality all the same.

Of course, Aisling had joined the Navy by choice whilst Ralene had been forced into this life.

"I'd love some tea," she said to to Jiya. Ignoring the arrival of Alistair and his bow while refusing to make eye contact with the hound of House Banick, Walter.

 

[Jiya Luana]

Jiya gave a quiet sigh under her breath and concentrated instead on pouring the tea, her head already thumping. She itched to get back to her workshop but she knew as soon as she got back to the house there would be another stack of paperwork for her to sort through. Repairs that needed doing, homes that had been destroyed in the slums of Vel'Anir that were of low priority to the establishment but that the House felt they could benefit from by rebuilding. Good things done for the wrong reasons, that was her father down to a T.

Whilst the others played their game of chess on who knew the most, and the Dreadlord put both her feet in her mouth with her words that Jiya was sure would result in her father's rough rebuke later, she leaned across to quietly murmur to her friend.

"I promise never to force you to one of these things again."

 

[Walter Banick]

Ralene acted in the manner Walter had warned Theodore about. He expected as much, that his words spoken in the carriage would amount to nothing. With his expectation precisely met, a kind of serenity in being right, even if the Banick name would suffer minor damage.

Theodore, in his distant and poor judgment, had sent Walter into a battle that he could not hope to win; it was all he could do to endure the loss as gracefully as possible. Perhaps, upon hearing of Ralene's behavior, Theodore would have the nerve to blame Walter, his argument thus: Control your daughter! And Walter would just smile, proceeding then to calmly repeat all of the arguments he had said to him prior to this whole fiasco.

Ralene was in the perfect position to be as incorrigible as she pleased. She cared not a whit for the weight, prestige, and legacy of her family name, nor to be the beneficiary thereof; the light which once illuminated any notion of a loving relationship between father and daughter had been snuffed out. She was completely divorced from the power structure of House Banick, thirteen years separated from any semblance of dependency thereon, and had joined in and answered to a new hierarchy: that of Vel Anir's military--a military which, as recent events would have it, eclipsed the authority of every noble House. She was her own woman now, not the girl that Theodore believed her to be (and, in truth, Walter as well, before he had opened that door to the solitary confinement cell and was thoroughly corrected); and though as foolish a young adult as Walter himself had been at her age, she'd agency all her own. And this was all to say nothing of the magical might that she possessed.

So, control her? No. It was impossible, even if he wanted to.

Barring some miracle, there was only one thing that Walter could do. And he had told Theodore this, adamantly restating it through Theodore's denials. Theodore couldn't accept it. But Walter knew it to be true, no matter how greatly it pained him.

All of this in mind and despite everything, Walter couldn't help but to feel a quiet surge of pride. The projection of strength Ralene displayed was perfection. When Walter had first come to the Golden Rose Cafe, this at the tender age of four, all he could remember was the terribly wracking nervousness quaking his hands, his fingers, his feet and his toes. Ralene was not intimidated in the slightest by the sheer concentration of power arranged at this table. Doubt, unfortunately, gained a brief purchase on Walter's mind: could he have instilled such strength and robust character in Ralene, had he sheltered her from the Academy and raised her himself to womanhood?

"Ladies," Walter said, his eye coasting over each of them, "have a pleasant evening."

An impulse to lay a hand in parting upon Ralene's armored shoulder. His better judgment decided against it.

Walter turned--his congratulations and condolences to Elise and Jiya would have to come some other time. He caught sight of Alistair, of the minor House Krixus, seeing that it was him who had simply come to meet with a fellow Initiate and had found himself quite possibly overmatched. Walter's path took him close to the boy, and he dropped a hand to his shoulder and whispered a friendly warning in his ear, "I'd leave them be."

And with that, Walter started across the grand hall of the Golden Rose Cafe, walking toward the military gathering of generals and commanders. Many of whom he knew. Some of whom he had fought alongside.

Ralene Elise Virak Alistair Krixus Amelia Pirian Aisling Weiroon Jiya Luana

 

[Samantha Black]

Teeth clamped down over her tongue as she resisted the bite that floated over it, lips instead quirking into a tight smile. "Oh we've met before."

Elise said with that same, tight smile. Never allowing a hint of her true emotions to flicker to the service.

"I remember you running around with my little brothers." There was genuine warmth in her tone as she spoke. "Pushing Rein into the mud only to have Erich drag you into the muck seconds later."

The Baroness clicked her tongue. "Memories I'm sure you've forgotten in the excitement of the Academy."

If Elise sparked any sense of intimidation among the other gathered ladies, it certainly hadn't rubbed off on Ralene. The young Dreadlord Acolyte casually stabbed her icy gaze at the woman with an expression of bemused mirth.

"I'm afraid the Proctors don't permit fond memories of family past, they beat it out of us starting day one. At least ... they used to ... suffice to say, I don't remember your little brothers but if putting them in the mud brings you joy I'd be happy to repeat the encounter." Her lips split into a smug smile before her attention slid upwards to the arrival of Alistair.

"Hey, Ralene. What are you doing here?"

Of course, as soon as the words came out of his mouth he realized that she was not alone. Surrounding her were members of House Banick, Pirian, Luana, Virak, and Weiroon. What had he just walked into? He swallowed, but his throat suddenly felt dry.

He offered a polite bow to all of them. The tension in the group quickly became apparent to him. His father would give him several lashes if he found out this was how he conducted himself around these noble powerhouses.

"My apologies. It seems I have interrupted something."

"I'm here because someone either has a wicked sense of humor or a poor sense of judgement." She didn't really take issue with her classmate - they both studied in Runic magic and theory and had spent plenty of time doing so in one another's company. But if he hadn't expected her here, she could certainly say the same for him.

She smiled at Ralene as she answered Elise's question. "Yes, my sister is Kristen Pirian." She said politely. She already liked the Banick daughter. Her attitude about the nobility was on par with Amelia's and she could appreciate that.

Her attention was stolen by the young man who came up to the table and addressed Ralene. Another noble at the Academy? Interesting, Amelia thought. "We are just getting settled, you are not interrupting anything important..." She trailed off and raised an eye brow, waiting for him to introduce himself.

Ral arched a dark brow at the mention of Kristen and made neither comment nor outward response. She didn't know Kristen had a sister, but she didn't know much about Kristen at all other than the girl was in way over her head at the Academy. Honestly, what were they thinking taking her in at such an advanced age?

"Ah yes! Little Ralene," she agreed with Elise's words. Of course, it was obvious that the girl had spent most of her adolescence at the academy. She showed up at a high-end establishment adorned in a full set of armor. Most unusual but societal norms weren't as obvious to everyone.

Particularly those who were stripped from their life of nobility and forced into Dreadlord service. "You're quite intimidating Ralene," Aisling offered with a genuine smile, "I know that my father didn't speak to me for years when I became a corsair." A fate surely less strenuous than becoming a Dreadlord but a reality all the same.

"Thanks," Ralene idly inspected her clawed gauntlet in a similar fashion that these ladies probably preened their nails, "I'd say that's a pity but the reality of his absence for me was more of a blessing."

"Ladies," Walter said, his eye coasting over each of them, "have a pleasant evening."

Ralene's gaze darkened as she watched the man leave but she allowed him only a moment of her attention before hooking another nearby chair with her foot and sliding it into Alistair's legs, "Have a seat, Al, the tea's just starting," and then speared Aisling with a look of intrigue, "Corsair you said? Not a common career for a Lady I imagine ...tell me more." If there was one thing Ralene could respect, it was another military woman.

 

[Alistair Krixus]

Yeah, he had definitely messed up. He watched Walter Banick leave after the whispered warning. Alistair was going to offer an apology to the group and then leave, taking Walter's advice. However, then Ralene slid the chair at him and offered him a seat. Either way, he would either put himself in this very dangerous situation or seem like an asshole for saying hello and then immediately leave even though he was offered a seat. Damn.

Alistair took a look at each of the women in the group before taking his seat beside Ralene. He knew it might bite him in the butt later, but he was not about to ditch a friend. He didn't have many of those, to begin with.

He really did not know what to say in this environment at the moment, so he was content with hopefully just sitting back and not embarrassing himself too much. There was also a chance he learned something useful.

 

[Elise Virak]

Elise tipped her head and offered thanks to Walter as he departed. Then regarded the adolescent Dreadlord.

Ah, of course Ralene didn’t know. She had been locked up in the Academy since her childhood. Elise didn’t blame her of course. The death of her brothers had rippled through Vel Anir at the time, but the girl simply hadn’t been there.

In fact she had been probably in the one place in Anirian territory that such a thing did not matter at all. Dreadlords were Dreadlords, politics did not matter to them. At least until one of the Houses decided otherwise.

Well, in days past anyway. ”Would that you could.”

Elise said absently, more to herself than Ralene.

The girl then launched into a diatribe that a year ago would have been positively scandalous, much to the amusement of Elise. She glanced briefly towards Walter who had made his way across the room, studying him for a moment.

Perhaps his game was a different sort.

The old ways of handling things like this were gone. What might have been an embarrassment before the Revolution was now something else. He was playing the game, just as she was. Only he had different pieces to work with. Ralene was one of them, it seemed.

Her lips pursed, and she simply waited in silence as she watched the others. Half stooped in memories.

 

[AmeliaPirian]

"I promise never to force you to one of these things again."

Amelia had pretty much tuned everyone out by this point. Too many people, too many attitudes, too many opinions. She took one of the porcelan glasses that Jiya had poured tea into and gave her friend a withering look.

"Don't worry, my dear Jiya, I will repay you for this. We will need to take a walk in a little bit because I have some news that you will love as much as I do."

Her voice dripped with sarcasm by the end of the sentence. Jiya would most definitely dislike the news of her impending marriage to the Prince as she did. She had not even met the man yet! It was all ridiculous.

Amelia took a sip of her tea and looked around the table. She let out a soft sigh and sat back to enjoy the gossip that was sure to happen soon.

 

[Jiya Luana]

Oh dear.

Her friends tone and fake smile wiped any kindling hope Jiya might have had that Amelia really did have something to tell her that she would love. Nothing to do with the anti-magic artefacts she created then. She tried not to look too disappointed and unhappy at the thought of how quickly their lives were changing for the worse. They should have stayed in Elbion. Her eyes flickered back to the table. At least it was a far different group to one they would have seen in this tea shop ten years ago when they were little girls. Two dreadlords, a military woman, an inventor... Elise was really the only 'stereotypical' lady there. Jiya wasn't naive enough to think that that meant she was outdated in this modern world though. Someone like that clung to power however they needed to.

Even if it was playing at being a forward thinker.

Jiya handed out the tea and then settled back to look as Aisling.

"I heard you went on a mission that sent you to a whore house most recently," Jiya added slyly with a curved smile and mischief in her eyes.

 

[Aisling Weiroon]

Elise was playing at her politicking game once more. Had Aisling not been so close to her, not know the real Elise Virak, she’d be certain the blonde baroness was up to something sinister. What a silly thought.

Aisling paid no mind to Walter’s exit but smiled at Ralene’s retort. Undesirable father figures were a common occurrence amongst the nobility. ”Its ok,” she grinned at the Dreadlord, ”I think a few of us share that sentiment.” Jiya and Amelia had left the city over falling outs with their own fathers. Aisling had plenty of horror stories about dear old dad. And poor Elise had been forced to kill her own father in self defense…

A sip of tea followed but a sudden choke came from deep within the Weiroon noble’s lungs at Jiya’s little barb.

She returned the smile and answered as coyly as she could. ”I didn’t know it was a whore’s house!” she protested. It was the honest truth but there didn’t seem much harm in adding a bit of flavor.

”But while we’re on the subject,” she lowered her voice as if she were about to reveal state secrets, ”the outfits they wear are skimpier than my undergarments. I think the Dreadlord accompanying me felt like he had won the lottery.”

A glint in her green eyes followed.

 

[Walter Banick]

Major Charles Huntington was a fine Guardsman, but he highlighted one of the weaknesses of a republic.

The man was good at being a Major in the Anirian Guard, but far less suited to being an elected representative. There had been a good many others like him, higher-ranking personnel who had taken advantage of the Revolution and the Guard's elevated status in Vel Anir. By his own report, as he and Walter spoke, Major Huntington had done essentially nothing in his new official capacity. The comfort of his station had brought out a streak of laziness in him, of which he seemed wholly oblivious. He hardy seemed the Major (then Commander) Walter once knew.

Were there men and women of exceptional aptitude? Men and women who could excel at their prior pursuits, be that soldiering or magecraft or what have you, and lead a nation? Yes, of course there were. But there were far more Huntingtons than there were these exceptions.

Presently, Walter and Major Huntington were discussing the Canal Project Walter had planned for Ostia Anir. The approval had recently come back down from the Republic. "Approval." In this context, a word mired in unnecessary, cumbersome, busy-boding administration.

"The elves are going to be a problem," Major Huntington said, swishing the wine in his wine glass. He'd put on noticeable weight since Walter had last seen him.

"I'm aware. Plans are already under way."

Major Huntington shook his head. "Walter...look, I'm not a lord and landholder in the southeast, so I can't comment on what it's like. But I know this. Elves and humans mixing? It isn't good. It's not good at all. The wise move would be to drive all of the elves out of Ostia Anir before it's too late. I'm saying this as a friend, Walt."

"You're beginning to sound suspiciously like Theodore." Walter had said it in good humor, but in truth these conversations were tiresome. His father had indeed given the county of Ostia Anir to him with the implied task that Walter would "clean it up." But Walter held differing views than many of his own fellow Anirians in this regard.

"The least you can do is wipe those three elven settlements and their knife-eared populaces off the map. Should be easy." Major Huntington seemed struck by an idea, then glanced around and spoke in a low tone. "If you need a casus belli, I can fabricate one. This can be perfectly sanctioned by the Republic."

"That won't be necessary, Charles." Walter forced a smile. "I'll have the situation well under control."

 

[Samantha Black]

”Would that you could.”

Elise said absently, more to herself than Ralene.

Normally she might've taken this as a challenge, but the fading and faraway tone of the woman's voice suggested something else entirely. Regret? Ral let the woman's attention dwindle off her and turned her own back to the group.

This was certainly a new and interesting dynamic of people to witness. There was hardly ever this sort of consorting among fellow Dreadlord initiates at the Academy. If nothing else, when they spoke it was to trade threats or were under command to work together for one reason or another. There were outliers, of course. Friendly sorts that spoke far more than they should.

Amelia's younger sister Kristen Pirian came to mind. And that waif Chasmine.

Ral didn't begrudge those girls. Nothing in the academy was personal to her, it was training and business. But at times the incessant gabbing from Kristen about her life prior to the academy, or Chasmine's oddball remarks had a way of rubbing others the wrong way, herself included. This? This group of clucking hens? Well, it was a bit like watching a dog fight. Alistair Krixus was smartly remaining mute. Good for him.

Ral was eager to see who held the conversational advantage here and what topics came out on top for garnering interest and attention. Eager to be surprised, as well. She declined any offer of tea with a simple shake of her head and followed the dialogue exchange with a calm gaze and the traces of amusement playing about her expression. The dark-skinned girl dropped the whore house comment and she watched the posture of those attending shift.

Ral smirked.

”But while we’re on the subject,” she lowered her voice as if she were about to reveal state secrets, ”the outfits they wear are skimpier than my undergarments. I think the Dreadlord accompanying me felt like he had won the lottery.”

A rueful chuckle passed through her lips, blue eyes skating over Aisling briefly, "Can't say I've met too many whores that wear more than a strap's worth of wardrobe. Hope his third leg didn't gum up the mission..."

 

[Alistair Krixus]

Alistair had been silent this entire time, preferring to try to fade into the background of this conversation. At least the tea was very good. He was doing an excellent job of being ignored when Aisling Weiroon made her comment and then Ralen.

”But while we’re on the subject,” she lowered her voice as if she were about to reveal state secrets, ”the outfits they wear are skimpier than my undergarments. I think the Dreadlord accompanying me felt like he had won the lottery.”

A rueful chuckle passed through her lips, blue eyes skating over Aisling briefly, "Can't say I've met too many whores that wear more than a strap's worth of wardrobe. Hope his third leg didn't gum up the mission..."

He suddenly did a spit take mid-sip of his tea causing some of it to spill. Thankfully, none of the tea spilled onto any of the ladies, but Alistair quickly stood up. His face was a bright red from his blushing and he performed a bow more to hide his face.

"Apologies...I'll go and get another drink."

Not the best excuse, but it was all he had at the moment. He left the group without waiting for them to say anything. He quickly got lost in the crowd. Alistair grabbed a class of wine and quickly made his way over to Walter Banick and his conversation.

Any sense of rudeness he might feel from interrupting a conversation was currently being covered by his sense of embarrassment. When he finally did come to stand beside Walter, he froze without anything to say before simply picking the truth.

"I had to get away."

Walter Banick Ralene Aisling Weiroon Jiya Luana
Elise Virak Amelia Pirian ​

 

[Elise Virak]

Elise left out a soft laugh, Ralene's comment drawing her out of the manic memories which had folded over her mind.

She shook her head, a wide beaming smile plastered on her lips. "Oh my."

The Head of House Virak said, though she was hardly as scandalized as one might expect. Such things were...often talked about. She could remember a time when the...prowess of Dreadlords was an often discussed thing.

Even if no one admitted to it.

"Ais." Elise asked, half shaking her head. "I hope you didn't lead the poor boy astray."

The sarcasm was more than obvious in her tone. "I wouldn't have you throw our fine Guardsmen into the fires of..."

Elise couldn't stifle the laugh.

"Passion." Her head shook, not quite believing that they were talking about this sort of thing.

 

[Walter Banick]

Another acquaintance of Major Huntington's came up just as Alistair did, providing the perfect pivot point in the current conversation. Charles turned to his acquaintance, and Walter turned to face Alistair.

"Young lord Krixus," he said with a pleasant smile.

He wasn't particularly surprised that Alistair had to get away, as he said. The boy had inadvertently waded into some rather deep waters at that table. The Republic may have ushered in a new hierarchy of power within Vel Anir, but the Great Houses weren't entirely removed from it. Walter knew it was no stretch to say that the nobles of Vel Anir knew far more about power politics than the fresh elected faces of the Republic--Elise Virak more than all the others sat at that table. Whatever informal air there might of been before and after Walter's departure, that table was rife with potential missteps with a young lord with the weight of his House upon his shoulders.

One of the Golden Rose's attendants came by, offering Walter the whiskey he had requested. He accepted the glass but did not yet take a sip.

He had something he wanted to ask the young lord of Krixus. Something he trusted the boy would give him a reliable answer to.

"Would you indulge me this opportunity to solicit you for your estimation of the Academy? You've endured the Academy for many years under the old system. Now in this past year things have changed. What say you of it, Alistair? And speak freely. How would you compare the training of the old Academy versus the new?"

Alistair Krixus

 

[Alistair Krixus]

Alistair was still trying to get his blushing under control, but he took a sip of his newly acquired drink to regain his composure. He would have been fine just to stand there and listen to whatever conversation these gentlemen were having. Oh, he would have to apologize to Ralene later, but he was sure she would understand. Ha, yeah right.

His attention was brought back to the moment at hand when Walter Banick began speaking to him. He was all too aware of who this man was. His father had made sure he could recite a small monologue on the man. It was important that he made a good impression when around him. It was this thinking that made Alistair far more serious when considering the question asked of him.

"Well, sir. The training is...easier in many ways...Primarily physical. I still have scars from some of my younger years of training. However..." He took a moment to figure out how exactly he wanted to say this. Should he go for tact or truth?

"This new way will create far fewer psychopaths...The old ways created Dreadlords that were walking, singular weapons of destruction. They had very little concept of camaraderie or teamwork, and their loyalty to Vel Anir was...thin during the best of times. While the new ways may not produce as many warriors prepared for the physical extremes. I believe this new way properly encourages loyalty to the city, while also growing more well-rounded Dreadlords capable of using strategy."

There, he had said it. His brief answer had been an accurate depiction of how he considered most dreadlords. Hell, there were still a few dreadlords in training that still hung on to such outdated ways of thinking. The more famous dreadlords in training, those towards the top of the class such as himself, were usually diverse in their skills and knowledge. However, the average dreadlords personality extended only so far as their ability to swing a sword.

This made dreadlords dimwitted in the worst cases and predictable in the best. Hopefully, the academy's more relaxed way of training would encourage new initiates to branch out their studies and become more well-rounded.

Walter Banick

 

[Walter Banick]

"Psychopaths..."

Walter barely spoke the word, his lips hardly moving. He tried to keep his expression receptive and stolid, the granite projection of strength that Theodore had hammered into him as far back as he could remember. Yet his sole eye betrayed him, a mirror into the self-reflection and realization which now washed over his mind like a tide.

It was one thing to be as removed from the inner workings of the Academy as Walter had once been. To see the product rather than the process, even if there existed a distant awareness of said process. The Dreadlords were the mightiest warriors Vel Anir had to offer, and mayhap the mightiest in all the known world. They were one of the central pillars by which the greatest bastion humanity had ever known stood and endured.

And then Walter opened that cell door, and beheld what the Academy had done.

To hear from one of Ralene's own peers the naked truth of the matter was both disturbing and enlightening. While Walter did not believe Ralene to be the full embodiment of the word, it was without question that she had been changed. In some ways for the good, in some ways for the bad. What tormented Walter now was that he feared the bad outweighed the good. The Academy had molded Ralene into a capable woman and a formidable warrior but at what cost?

At the end of it all, the inevitable truth: Walter had lost Ralene, and he was never going to get her back. This on account of his own blind, damnable folly.

He didn't notice that his gaze had drifted back toward the table, back toward his daughter. He recovered and looked to Alistair. Said after a moment, "I appreciate your candor, Alistair."

Walter cleared his throat. Couldn't help it.

"If my appraisal of you and your character is correct, you aren't like the particular group of peers you've mentioned, yet both you and they have endured the same rigors of the Academy's training regimen. You've not developed harmful, undesirable traits. To put it in uncharitable, if not altogether crude, terms: they broke, and you did not."

Keenly interested, Walter cocked his head. The question would be personal for Alistair, of course, but that sword cut right back into Walter as well with what he had just been thinking about.

"How did you manage it?"

Alistair Krixus

 

[Alistair Krixus]

His polite and stoic mask never dropped from his face, but he could not help but laugh on the inside. He did not break? If only he knew. They all broke just a little. It was the mark of the dreadlord. The real question was whether someone shattered.

Alistair had noticed Walter's look over to the table that he only recently left. He did not need too much time to realize what the man was thinking. He chided himself for his careless words but quickly went to explain deeper into the situation.

"My main concern was the stripping away of the individuality of the dreadlords. I assure you, sir, Ralene was not broken. She is hardworking and dedicated to her craft. She is one of the brightest young minds in the fields of runic alchemy and forging that I have had the pleasure to work with. She is also a good friend."

Alistair was not sure if Ralene would appreciate the last comment, but hopefully she just never found out that he had said that.

"Not all dreadlords were broken, as you say. The truly skilled among us, and those who I am sure you will hear more of in the future, did not break. We are all too stubborn for that." He had a brief smirk to try and lighten his comment.

"As for myself, all dreadlords have their own ways of coping, my mechanism was losing myself in the library of the academy. I read treatises on swordsmanship, various magical fields, politics, history, the sciences...really any I could get my hands on."

Walter Banick

 

[Walter Banick]

Walter cupped his chin in the crook of his thumb and forefinger and listened to the young lord Alistair speak on his experience. He studied the boy with a scrutinizing eye, his attention focused solely upon him and his testimony. A storm of thoughts rolled in at the conclusion.

Far be it for Walter to question, let alone disparage, the actions of Vel Anir's forefathers, they who first saw the Academy constructed and the Dreadlord system implemented. Far be it to do so from his position of relative luxury in the world that they had built. They were men of their time, as all men are. They did what they had to do to face the challenges of their era, and in so conquering them they sowed seeds that they themselves would never reap--this to be the exclusive blessing of their grandchildren, and their grandchildren's grandchildren, of whom Walter was one such beneficiary.

And yet, to both his horror and his relief...he did find himself questioning them.

"The burden placed upon you and your peers is..." He didn't struggle for the words. He struggled to say them. A singular moment paled before thirty-four years of life. And it prevailed, "...disproportionate to the responsibility shared by the greater body of the citizenry. Most men and women serve only their mandatory year plus training in the Guard. You are called upon for life. The rigors of training in the Guard are military standard. The rigors of training in the Academy, as I understand them, are...beyond standard."

He didn't elaborate more than that, beyond standard. He didn't need to.

"The weight of your gifts does not tip those scales back into balance."

A moment passed, one marked by a contemplative look on Walter's expression. It faded as he shelved the thoughts and refocused back upon the boy.

"Indulge me for just a while longer, Alistair," Walter said. "What say you of your family, of their decision to enlist you as a Dreadlord? I know only that you were given to the Academy at the age of five at the time. Do you remember much of Amadeus and Natasha?"

Alistair Krixus

 

[Alistair Krixus]

He had never heard someone admit it to such an extent. The burden of the Dreadlords. Sure, with the new Academy, it was something that the concept was mentioned, but never had Alistair heard someone say it so clearly. He slowly nodded in agreement with a thoughtful expression on his face.

It was something that he had never thought too much about. Then again, maybe he was biased to the situation seeing as most of his life had been training for his role. It was a heavy burden...with beyond standard. That was doing a disservice to the dreadlord initiates. They were trained to be as far away from humans as a human could possibly reach for. Living weapons that could lay armies to waste.

"Yes, we are trained to be the elite defense of this city. We are Vel Anir's deterrent to the dangers of the outside world, so we have to be the best."

What he was saying may sound boastful, but to Alistair, it was also just the truth. When people spoke of Vel Anir, they spoke of the Dreadlords. The mere thought of some of them could push back some armies.

It was a cocky way of thinking, but it was earned confidence that Alistair had been training his whole life for. He, like many of his other initiates, could kill a majority of the population in this city if they chose to...and they were just the initiates. Hell, that was essentially what had happened in the revolution. He was prepared to say more.

However, he froze at the last question. His father and mother. Yes, he remembered them. He remembered his father sending his family into near poverty for rare alchemical ingredients. He remembered the excruciating pain as his father engraved runes on a four-year-old child's body in the hopes of rekindling the strength of a House that had never held much power in the first place. There was also his mother, who was so busy worrying about the next social trend that she let his father do whatever he wanted to him.

His parents...possibly in name only.

"Yes, I still write to them to remain aware of the business of my family. I am a dreadlord first, but my duty to my family is a close second."

It was an answer that had been practiced so many times that it was almost instinctive. Sadly, it was true. A certain part of him could never sever himself from his parents. It was the last remaining part of a scared little boy who had all of his family's dreams pushed onto him. It was true that he still received letters from his father, but most were just commands about who to kiss up to, or maybe to spy on. All in order to give his family any advantage that he could.

Walter Banick

 

[Walter Banick]

Yes, we are trained to be the elite defense of this city. We are Vel Anir's deterrent to the dangers of the outside world, so we have to be the best.

A near textbook answer. It was nothing that Walter did not already know, the very same sentiment that he and swathes of fellow Anirians both of noble and common blood held with a patriotic sense of pride. The Dreadlords were the answer to magical threats posed to Vel Anir. Humanity lacked many of the innate advantages of other peoples populating Arethil, and thus the peril of being outclassed was a ceaseless concern.

Yes, Walter had thought it all a necessity. The Academy, the manner in which they prepared the Dreadlords--an inescapably harsh answer for an uncompromising world.

But it was easy to think that when he was removed from the reality of the system, when the burden was borne distantly by others whom he did not know and did not love.

Alistair then answered his question.

And at this Walter nodded slowly. A practiced stoicism kept his expression as firm as granite, just as he'd been taught, but inwardly he was struck tremendously by the affecting thoughts of what could have been.

He reached out and clapped a hand to his arm. Said in a tone just the smallest touch quieter than before, "You're a good son, Alistair."

The moment settled quickly enough, and Walter's hand drifted back down to his side.

"The Republic has brought with it a number of changes. Unprecedented choice, more than your fellow Initiates of yesteryear were afforded." Military, reservist, House allegiance, though the third was heavily restricted. Despite the caveat, the general statement remained true. "Have you thought on your own?"

Alistair Krixus

 

[Alistair Krixus]

The first comment caused Alistair to freeze in confusion. It was something he had never heard before, much less from such an important person. The praise brought with it a myriad of emotions, many of which he wasn't accustomed to handling.

He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out first, and he closed it again. He let the silence sit for a minute before realizing that it might be perceived as rude.

What would he say? His dad was a monster. The years of experiments and runes that decorated his skin were signs of that. The only gift he ever received was a sword for his twelfth birthday. Only for him to find out that he was supposed to give the sword as a gift to another student. A favor for one of his father's business partners.

"Thank you, sir." He managed to force out. The only response that he could think of.

The next question was a bit easier as it was something that he had thought about. More importantly, it was something that he had planned his whole life...Was that really what he wanted?

"I-I have always assumed that I would join the military and represent my family." That was where the plan started and ended that his father had created for him, but...the idea of exploring the world...being free. It sounded to good to be true.

"However, I-I would do whatever Vel Anir needs of me."

Walter Banick

 

[Aisling Weiroon]

"His third le...," Aisling began to repeat Ral's words until the revelation dawned on her. A slight shade of rose shone on her cheeks which was quickly replaced by excitement. This was turning out to be more akin to the sleepovers they had as girl's than an official soiree of Anirian nobles.

A mischievous grin broke out on her face as she added, "can't say that I noticed." Aisling swapped her attention over to her lifelong friend and returned the sarcasm.

"Oh Ellie, not to worry, I'm a lady of culture," she took a sip of her oolong tea and in a sweet tone punctuated the thought, "he didn't seem the passionate sort."

 

[Walter Banick]

Military. Perhaps the most prestigious route for the Dreadlord son of a minor House to take in this new era. Swearing to his House would have limited his growth, for it was a plain fact that minor Houses lacked the reach of the Seven--mayhap with the exception of House Sirl these days. But on a stage as grand as the Anirian military, Alistair could put the name of Krixus upon more tongues than he would have otherwise.

A savvy young man hid behind his humility.

"Vel Anir will always have need of men like yourself. Our government may have changed, but our rivals and foes all across Liadain will not find this to be cause for clemency. It is the duty of those who are strong and capable to protect those who are not--in this latter category rests the greater body of the citizenry."

Mandatory service in the Guard or not, such remained a stark truth. Most men, most women, were simply not built for war. When enemies inevitably crested the metaphorical hill, their well-being they entrusted to their kin who were so capable. Who could take on that sacrifice to their soul.

"For what faults you or I could ascribe to the Academy, I should hope that you feel adequately prepared for this task."

Alistair Krixus

 

[Alistair Krixus]

A dark expression briefly came across Alistair's face as he nodded. Yes, no matter his opinions on the Academy's "educational" practice. He could not deny the truth. Alistair and his classmates were prepared for war. Unfortunately, to do so, the Academy may have made all areas of life inaccessible for many of his comrades.

"I'm confident we can continue to train more dreadlords while protecting this...our new republic."

Alistair had fought for the revolution as stalwart as any other, but his primary reasons had been that his father saw better opportunities to rise when in a republic than in the former monarchy. Alistair, himself, had never really considered his thoughts on the new republic.

He supposed it worked well enough, but maybe he would need to take some time later and truly figure out exactly what he could do for the republic...and what the republic could do for him.

"I do feel adequately trained. Of course, it puts me at ease knowing there are still wise decision-makers up the chain of command, like yourself, sir."

Walter Banick

 

[Walter Banick]

Walter accepted the compliment with a quiet grace, smiling slightly but not commenting on it.

"The ship of state is only as well-steered as the capabilities of its crew allow." Walter cast a vexed look off to one side, his comment to follow made with a touch of disdain. "And I fear that the Republic has introduced an avenue by which many inept hands may wrest control of the helm."

What interesting times the present stewards of Arethil lived in. Certainly this corruption had occurred all throughout history in monarchies and oligarchies and empires too numerous to count. The most infamous example of all was surely King Grichen in the Age of Expansion, whose ineptitude in the form of religious madness so devastated mankind that even two thousand years hence the glory of old had not been reclaimed. Now, in these times, the novelty was in a multitude of hands, elected hands, steering the citizenry they governed into ruin--this as opposed to a single pair.

Walter then stepped forward, draping an arm around Alistair's back and a firm hand down on his shoulder. He stood beside the boy, his tone now one of a cordial offer.

"Alistair, young master of House Krixus, I have a Project which is set to begin in a short month's time--something grand in scale. A campaign. Perhaps I could put in a request to the Academy, and see to it that you are included on this particular mission."

The Canal Project would be a definite boon for the prospects of Ostia Anir, capital city of Walter's holdings to the southeast. But why not allow it to be a boon for Alistair as well? The experience would be precisely the thing to help prepare him for a future of military service.

Alistair Krixus