Private Tales What Remains

[Avros]

A smile pulled at the Prince's lips, feeling as though he had succeeded at something.

Perhaps not all hope was lost afterward. "We go inland."

Avros said as he lead the way. There weren't many 'safe' places for him. Most of the countryside would be teeming with soldiers, not to mention the Questioners which would eventually be sent. His friends were few in number after all these years, but a name did stick out to him.

"Orria." He intoned, wondering if she would know the name of the city. It was one of the largest in Avelin, or at least had been. While Avelin sat on the coast, Orria was situated within the middle of the small nation. Having grown up around a series of mines, the city was the manufacturing capital.

Where once the Rune Marked blades of his people had been made. "I have a contact there."

A man in the army. He had stayed after the Tyrant had taken over, but acted as a double agent. Avros had no idea if the man was still alive, but there was no doubt that if he was he was still resisting. Not in the same way others would, but the Prince knew he could count on him.

"He'll be a good place to start." He said as they finally stepped outside.

 

[Faelynwë]

The longer she was without drink or root, the more that irritating knowledge that she tried to suppress crept in. Her mind sparked at the word Orissa and conjured up maps, facts, and snippets of memories. She tried to push them away. All it would take was one trigger to send her back to the memories she kept locked behind the vault.

The fresh air hit her as they stepped outside and she tugged the scarf down from her nose to breathe it in. It would take a few hours for the stench of the sewers to truly leave her system, and probably only after she bathed and changed clothes would she stop catching whiffs with her sensitive nose, but this was a start. She had always loved the smell of the ocean spray.

"I haven't been there in a few years, they don't tip singers well despite their earnings," she rolled her eyes. "So are we going by boat? The roads out will all be locked down now."

 

[Avros]

There was something intensely relieving about once again stepping out into fresh air. His nose had gotten used to the stench, or so he had thought, but it was only when they stepped outside that Avros was reminded just how truly bad the sewers were.

He shook his head, and then said a quick prayer in hopes they would be able to enter Orissa through other means. "We'll cut through the Aldwood."

Avros said suddenly, knowing that the words would likely be met with objection.

The Aldwood was a, relatively, small forest that cut the nation of Avelin nearly in half. Two roads and a single river cut their way through it, but most of the Aldwood was entirely untamed. It was an ancient and deeply magical place that even the Usurper had not yet dared to tread.

There were many reasons for that of course, but chief among them was the truth of the Aldwood; those who went in, often did not come out.

Whether that was by the hand of the forest itself, or some creature lurking within was unknown. Though within the ancient histories of the Aveli people, it was said that their knowledge and understanding of the Runes first came from the Aldwood. Taught to their ancestors there long ago.

"They won't expect it." He said, turning back to her and readying for the argument.

–

 

[Faelynwë]

"For good reason!" The gleemaiden exploded, wrenching back her hand from his grasp and throwing them dramatically into the air as though asking some forgotten god to give her strength not to strangle the man before her. "The forest is--" her mouth snapped shut as that mental door rattled in the recesses of her mind. Hidden knowledge she knew she possessed but that came with a world of pain.

"It's not safe. Certainly not without magic," her mind wandered down the safer route of song lyrics. Many of the tale she sung across the realm were based in reality, and there were more than a dozen that talked about the horrors of the forest. Of loved ones missing. Of the desperate seeking shelter to never be seen again.

"If you plan to just take us on a suicide mission we'd have a better chance sneaking onto a boat."

 

[Avros]

Well, he hadn't exactly expected any other reaction. The Altwood was feared for a good reason. Even when his parents had ruled, the people had been exceptionally respectful of the forest. Many villagers along its borders had held yearly festivals in honor of the trees, all said to keep the forest from growing beyond its own boundaries.

Avros had no idea if such magics worked, but in truth it didn't really matter. ”You said it yourself.”

The Prince reminded her.

”You can't leave, a boat might cross the border of the barrier and…” His lips turned to a frown before he finished the sentence. Not wanting to picture the scene of Fae being turned to dust as the Usurper’s magics were turned upon her. ”There will be soldiers on the road.”

Especially after what had happened last night. There might have been a chance for him to travel for a few weeks relatively quietly, but after slaughtering four men? There was no question the Usurper would send more and raise every alarm he could.

Many of Avros’ broken, but what had been shattered into bits could be put back together by the right hands. Even the bastard who killed his parents knew that. ”The Aldwood will have neither soldiers nor watchers.”

He contended again.

”And, we're not entirely without magic…” Avros said with a frown. ”I think we can retrieve my spell blade before we get there.”

 

[Faelynwë]

Faelynwë stared at him, aware that her mouth hung half open in her disbelief. She tried to search her mind for the words that might convince him but if staying alive wasn't enough, then she had no idea what was.

Hels she would kill for even an ounce of Root.

The Gleemaiden rubbed a hand down her face and turned away from the Prince then paced back and forth. If she didn't leave with him she might have a better chance on her own. Maybe they would try to pin the murder entirely on the fugitive rather than a lowly gleemaiden. But if the innkeeper admitted he had seen her use magic...

Hels she would kill for just a drag of Root.

"Fine," she snapped, throwing her hands up in defeat. "But don't be surprised when I say I told you so."

 

[Avros]

"I wouldn't dream of it." Avros said, trying to project some level of confidence before he lead them into the dragons den.

There was really no telling what lay within the Aldwood. If they were lucky, they would never have to find out in the first place. A handful of tales existed where someone managed to make it through, though oddly enough most of them centered around children. What exactly that meant had been pondered by scholars for a long while, but no one had done any serious study.

Scholars of Aveli had been too respectful of the ancient forest, and his parents had praised them for their restraint.

Now Avros was left wondering if it wouldn't have been better for them to solve the mystery. "Spellsword first."

He said, more to himself than to Fae.

Before his capture he had entrusted the blade to one of his closest Lieutenants. The man had known where it needed to be buried, but the Prince could only hope that he had actually followed his instructions. Taking a deep breath, Avros once again set off, heading north and fully expecting his new companion to follow.

 

[Faelynwë]

Fae hesitated in the mouth of the sewers one last time before heaving a big sigh.

"In for a penny...." she muttered beneath her breath. The idea of traping through the Aldwood filled her with dread. When did men stop heeding the warnings of elves when it came to places of magic? Probably when they got themselves all killed, whispered the dark voice in the back of her mind. She shut it down before she could dwell on that thought anymore.

The sewers had dumped them out on the edge of the port. Despite the city being at their backs, the warning bells rang loud and clear. The sound would reach even the boats that docked far out in the harbour. Fugitives on the run. Everyone would be on high alert for those looking to skip town tonight. Fae sighed and rubbed her temples.

"If we're stopping for some broken sword, I have something I would like to get too," the Root dealers hung around the town usually, but with the guards no doubt on every street they would likely head to the quieter docks.

 

[Avros]

Avros moved with purpose, not glancing back as Fae made her intentions of stopping known. "It's not broken."

At least it better not be.

A spellsword was perhaps the most important thing that any Aveli could own. There were dozens of different kinds, hundreds even. Everything from small pocket knives to the greatswords once wielded by the Royal Guard. His own blade was a bastard sword, forged within the fires of his fathers smiths by his own hands.

The Usurper had destroyed many, many of the famed weapons and tools, but Avros had more than a small hope that his had survived the last few years. The man he had entrusted to would have died for the blade, though he'd told him not to.

"Just, buried." He corrected as they continued slowly up the cliffside coast. The alarm bells tolling loudly in the distance. "What do you need? We can stop, but the further we get from Primm before we do the better."

Avros contended, glancing over his shoulder finally, though looking past Fae and more towards the town up upon the cliffs.

 

[Faelynwë]

The elven maiden gave a quiet snort at the Prince's optimism. She more suspected the blade had been sold and broken down or melted whilst he languished in prison; the Usurpers Alchemists paid handsomely for the blades to experiment on. Even a loyal man could change his colours when watching his family starve. She didn't say it outloud though; if the boy wanted to believe in something she wouldn't take it from him. The world would soon enough.

"Provisions," was all she offered as an answer and from the steely glare she levelled in his direction she wouldn't be elaborating any further on the matter.

"I can get them at the next town," she conceded. Root could be found in most places. Since the usurpers arrival it had spread like a plague and the authorities had shown little interest in stamping it out. A drugged populace were easier to control.

 

[Avros]

"Provisions." He echoed nodding his head, though sounding as if he only half believed her.

The Prince offered no other comment though, happy enough that she agreed at least not to double back towards Primm. He was fairly certain that trying to do so would quickly see both of them hanged. Even stopping at the next village would have an air of danger, but if only one of them went into town it would be safe enough.

At least he hoped. "Then let's hurry."

Avros said as he turned back towards the Gleemaid.

"They'll be searching with dogs soon, and we need to get as far as ahead as we can." He had played this game of cat and mouse enough times to know that. They were on the clock now, and the longer they lingered the more likely it was the guard would catch up with them. Primm wasn't exactly the center of civilization, but there was a garrison.

The Usurper had positioned many of them all around Aveli. Each ready to respond to rebellions if they were needed. With a long breath, Avros set their pace. Moving along the cliff and leading Fae as they began to move north. Avoiding the road as much as they could, cutting through farmers fields and as of yet untouched wilderness.


It took them nearly two days until they reached the next village. A small crossroad down called Tumilin. Their nights had been cold and blessed with rain, which at first had seemed a curse until he'd pointed out it would would make them more difficult to track.

Nonetheless, after the forced march, both he and Fae were set on edge. The lights of Tumilin coming into view did not settle Avros' nerves however, and as they sat on the edge of a large field just outside of town the Prince chewed his lip. "Looks quiet."

He said with a slight frown.

"But there could be a patrol." There was no way of telling, not from here, but getting closer might also mean getting caught. "Tell me what you need, I'll go in and get it, along with some camp supplies."

Something they'd been sorely lacking the last few days.

 

[Faelynwë]

It had only taken one day before Faelynwë began to feel the effects of withdrawal from Root. It had begun as a mild case of the shakes that she had been able to grit her way through. The headaches too, whilst painful, had been easy enough to walk through but by the morning of the second day they had reached a point where the sunlight made her feel queasy and she had refused food for fear of throwing up.

Her mood took a severe hit too. She became snappish and short with any prying questions and had stormed off when he had refused to give in and get an Inn on the second night of sleeping in the rain. She could have cried when she saw the spit of a town that they had been aiming for.

"Why don't you sit here and I'll go get what we need? I might even be able to make some coin down there," it had probably been a while since this shithole had had a decent performer.

 

[Avros]

The Prince blinked. ”You're kidding, right?”

It had been rather obvious over the last two days that Fae wasn't exactly used to the wilderness. She'd been grumpier and grouchier by the minute, despite him pointing out that they couldn't just wander the roads. Every logical argument he made was deflected, and at one point he was pretty sure she'd been ready to stab him several times. Though that might just have been because he'd suggested they could find a cave after he'd denied her an Inn.

”We need to avoid notice.” He reminded her, not for the first time that day. The conversation a simple cycle that they had done about four times now. ”Who do you think someone's going to remember better?”

Avros gestured to himself. ”Average looking man buying some camping supplies.”

And whatever else she still needed.

”Or.” He gestured to her. ”The beautiful elven gleemaid that swept into town and sang some songs for the local tavern, making coin and leaving an impression on a town that probably hasn't seen a singer in a decade.”

Even if she hid her ears, a gleemaid or man was always something people talked about. The Usurper may have dulled the minds of his people, but they were not so dead inside that a rare treat for entertainment was entirely ignored. He'd witnessed as much in the tavern the night before.

 

[Faelynwë]

Anger hardened the beautiful lines of Fae's face.

"You're a Prince -- the Prince! Your face is on every poster we've seen," which amounted to two in total, but it was two more than her face. Of course, she knew he was right. If word had not spread here and the guards caught up, they would be hard pressed to remember Avros. Just another weary traveller. An elf on the other hand...

"Fuck!" She stomped her foot and turned her back on him to throw her bag down at the roots of the tree they were stood under. She winced as soon as the precious bundle hit the ground and crouched to delicately touch it and ensure none of the books inside had been damaged. "Fine. I'll tell you but I don't want some shitty Princely high horse lecture. I'm not a maiden in need of saving," she stood and held out her own coins. Enough for the type of lower class Root that would be on offer in a town like this.

"I need Root."

 

[Avros]

Avros' eyebrows shot up, a grimace flickering over his face before he could stop it.

"Ah." He said, suddenly understanding the range of emotions she had gone through in the last few days. Withdrawals from Root were harsh on the body. Fucking with everything from internal temperature to ones sleep. He'd never taken the drug, had never wanted to nor needed to, but there had been more than one rebel who had fallen to its use.

In the world the Usurper had created, there was often little shame in needing an escape. Root was but one of the substances that had flooded into Aveli after the Tyrant had taken his throne. Half of their fight had been in the battle against the lethargy the drugs caused.

Still, he knew well enough not to deny Fae what she needed.

There had been more than one man addicted to root among his now lost band of rebels. The Prince knew well enough what would happen if the Elf didn't get what she needed. It would be bad, especially on a journey like this. "I'll get it for you."

He said, though clearly did not enjoy the task.

"Keep your coin, and wait here." The Prince said taking a step backwards and turning on his heel. Biting his tongue to not offer a 'princely high horse lecture'.

 

[Faelynwë]

Faelynwë stepped forward and grabbed a hold of the Prince's jacket before he could leave, turning him back to face her with no small amount of force.

"Don't treat me like a charity case. I have coin - probably far more than you," she hadn't been locked in a prison for several years after all. She pressed the coin bag hard against his chest and then let him go. If he chose to drop the bag and leave it then she wouldn't be picking it up. It could rot.

"And there's enough in there for a bottle of whisky, I counted," she knew she was being harsh on the Prince by implying he didn't know the real meaning of money but she was angry, tired, and her body was beginning to shut down from the withdrawal. It didn't help either that every time she had tried to sleep she had seen that dying man's face and her hands covered in blood.

"I'll wait for you by the creek we passed," maybe she could scrub her skin hard enough she no longer saw blood on them.

 

[Avros]

The coin purse dropped to the ground, it's content letting out a loud clink as it fell.

For a moment Avros simply stood, his face an unreadable mask as she stared down at the Elf. His eyes holding a fierce intensity as she rebuked him, fingers furling into tight fists as he resisted the urge to counter the lashings of her tongue. Her hand shoved him back, and he took only a single step to steady himself, tongue pressed between teeth.

Avros wanted to scream.

The Prince had spent near a decade in prison, had returned to his country twisted and his people broken. The nation he had loved was gone, and those who would fight for it seemed dulled by the world they had been forced to live in. Frustration and anger nearly boiled over as Fae turned away, stalking towards the creek they had passed.

He stood there, waiting until she was far from view. Then he turned and let out a roar of utter rage. His body turning as he smashed his fists into the nearest tree. The bark biting Into his flesh, but the wood beneath splintering into pieces from the sheer force of his strike.

Again and again he struck, until a crimson trail dripped down the tree, and his rage slipped away. His chest heaved, falling and rising as Avros took heavy steadying breaths. His eyes eventually closing as the entirety of his body seemed to shake and shiver. The Prince slowly collecting himself, drawing back the semblance of calm he knew he would need.

Seconds later, a bloody hand covered the fallen purse as it was picked up from the forest floor.

 

[Faelynwë]

When Avros finally descended to the town, he would find it no different to the several others scattered amongst the Empire. The market place was bustling with the locals searching for produce they needed for the evenings meal, or medicine for a sick loved one, and for those with more money pretty cuts of fabric for an upcoming dance. He received the odd few looks from those curious to see a new face, but for most new faces were old news. Travellers passed by often enough that they warranted little comment unless they were here to cause trouble. They marked his sword though, and despite the grubbiness of his cloak its good cut, and knew that he must have at least some coin.

Coin was not all that mattered.

"Ho! Stranger," one of the first market holder harked as Avros began his walk through the centre. "What news from the road? Heard there was some big fuss at the Capital, I'd ben mighty keen for any news. Keen enough to share

 

[Avros]

”Fraid I didn't come that way.” Avros said, kicking on an accent from the north of Avelin.

He and his family spoke as high borns did usually. Careful, pronounced, and exacting. His mother had always said it was the ‘proper’ way to speak, though his father had often joked that most of their people would hardly recognize a word they said.

During his years of rebellion against the Usurper, Avros had learned to speak far less formally. He'd quickly found out that talking like a noble was almost as large an identifier as looking like one. ”There was a ruckus down in Prim.”

He offered by way of news, Knowing it would likely satiate the man's craving for news.

”But I hadn't made my way Into town for a while.” The Prince offered a shrug. ”Probably just some bastards stirring up trouble again.”

Avros said, watching the man's reaction as he tried to keep his expression as even and bored as possible.

He was only here to gather the supplies they needed, and the root Fae was after. But If he could gather some information and gauge the people of this town, then all the better. At least it might give him a little hope.

 

[Faelynwë]

"There's always trouble in Prim," the burly man turned and spat, though it was hard to tell whether this was a mannerism he utilised after any topic of conversation or if he felt particular venom towards the larger city. Sticking to his word, the man bagged up a hearty still steaming meat pie and handed it out to the Prince. "You didn't hear it from me but I heard from a traveller who came through this way yesterday some of the last elves launched an attack on the guard. Didn't know there were many of the bastards left for that but," he shrugged and then another customer appeared and the stall holder seemed to forget the stranger entirely.

 

[Avros]

Avros let his face twist in disgust at the man's words, though it was most certainly not because he agreed with the sentiment. His head shook, and he dislodged himself from the conversation as another customer slipped in to take his place.

How deep has he taken root? The Prince asked himself as he walked further into the town. Before he'd been captured, there had still been many of his people who were just as aghast at what happened to the Elves as he. Avelin and the people of Astoria had been close friends, working in tandem for centuries to better both nations. The shattering of the crystal towers had been a horror story for many, the thought that the Usurper had now down seeds of disgust and prejudice within his peopleadr Avros feel sick.

Pushing the thought from his mind, the Prince tried to focus on the task at hand. Quickly he cut towards the general store, making small talk as he perused the wares. He spoke of a trip to the west, in hopes of finding work, purchases a tent and three sleeping mats, as well as a few other supplies. The coin he had stolen from the soldiers he and Fae had killed covering what it needed to.

Which left him only with his final task.

As much as he disliked it, just short of an hour after he'd entered town Avros found himself standing in front of a root den.

His scowl betrayed the disgust he felt in the moment. Such a place would have been outlawed under his parents, though they'd still operated underground. Now however it seemed with the Usurper’s reign the practice was almost encouraged. Something else to dull the minds of the people. Trying to keep some measure of composure, Avros went inside, collecting enough root for Fae’s coin to cover before quickly slipping back out of the little village.

Head swimming with a mourning for his nation.

 

[Faelynwë]

Once she was out of sight and hearing of the young Prince, Faelynwë uttered her own strangled cry and aimed her frustrations through a kick at a rock. The stone spun away from her and went crashing into the stream sending sprays of water everywhere. Once upon a time, she might have worried it would upset the nymphs that called the water it's home but she had not seen any sign of the fae since magic had been sealed out of this part of the world. If she had she might have had an ally when her own people had died.

Remoursefully she slumped down on the bank and put her head in her hands. Alcohol and Root had thoroughly begun to work its way out of her system amalgamating into a headache from the Gods themselves. She couldn't decide if she wanted to be sick or simply lie down and hope she never woke up again. In the end she settled for a bath.

With care she unlaced her boots. Elven made wares were now near impossible to find and she had no intentions of parting with what she had. Especially the boots. They had been a lucky find when the guards had left the bodies of the damned unattended for a few short moments. Putting them aside she then disrobed and submerged herself into the cool spring water. She hissed but forced herself in deeper until it was up to her neck. Her head pulsed angrily but at least her skin thanked her. It was the first time since Prim she had had a chance to wash aside from a quick scrub. Bits of dried blood still clung to her. Picking up some rock moss she began to scrub herself violently.

"Once upon a time there was a Princess, and she killed a man with a magic sword..." she whispered song like to herself. Her scrubbing increased. "The man had done nothing to her, but she told herself it was for a good reason. To save a Prince." Her skin was red raw and sore but still she pressed on until the pain was too much and she had rubbed the moss into nothing. She lay in the water for a while after then calmly washed her hair and clambered out.

"These won't do... No... won't do..." she muttered and picked up her bloodied clothes. She crouched on the edge and began to scrub them clean. When she was done she set them in the sun and donned her cloak for warmth. Then, she took out her lyre and began to play. The notes were hesitant at first and she muttered to herself as she went, stopping every now and then to redo a line. She was completely engrossed in her composing that she didn't hear the Prince return.

"Listen all you people, to a song of Tragedy,
How a Princess lost her home, and the last piece of her soul.
For one fateful day, a Prince did come, with vengeance in his heart,
But the Usurpers men were waiting, and to the Prince they said;
"Ye come with me son so I can put a noose about your neck, and teach ye the Hangman's Jig."

If the Princess had been clever, or even sound of mind, she would have turned her tail and fled and kept her soul as once.
But something bade her stay and act, and from the book drew forth,
A sword of light and drove it through his heart...."

 

[Avros]

Avros stood at the edge of the clearing, his steps having stopped as he heard Faelynwé’s voice echoing through the trees. His boots cut just short of a twig up on the ground, falling instead silently against the soft ground.

He stood there, silently, as she composed her song. Hands holding the small bundle of root and liquor that he had brought her. Fingers tightened ever so slightly around the leather roll, as if he were weighing something in his mind. A pit forming in the shallows of his stomach as he listened to the words she sang. A long breath drew into his lungs as she finished, his lips turning to a frown as he closed his eyes and finally stepped forward

The Prince's boot fell deliberately onto the stick it had earlier missed, a loud snap ringing out.

”I got everything we needed.” Avros said, entering the small clearing by the river side and acting as though he'd not heard a word she'd sung. The weight of her deeds still heavy upon his shoulder, the guilt in her heart now a burden that he would carry himself.

Not that she would ever know.

”And a little more.” He'd bought supplies for three, hoping that if soldiers asked around they would be thrown off the trail even the slightest bit. ”But…I have some b-.”

Avros remarked before he caught himself. Frowning as he realized that telling her the rumor now spinning out from Prime might not be the wisest choice. Especially after hearing her song. ”Bad news.”

He finished with a grimace anyway, setting his things down besides the riverbank. Still clutching the bundle in his off-hand.

 

[Faelynwë]

Faelynwë's fingers fell away from the strings almost immediately when the branch snapped. She glanced up and in direction of the noise, body tensing and ready to run should the need arise... but instead she was able to relax. Letting go of her held breath she tugged the cloak around herself a little tighter to be somewhat decent in the Prince's presence, not knowing he now knew who she was.

Her eyes immediately fell to the bottle and small leather bundle.

"Bad news?" She asked in a too high, too casual voice even as she began to set the lyre down and slink a little closer. Her hands shook with the need. Just a little Root and she would be able to forget that guards face and the blood on her hands. She'd be able to think again.

 

[Avros]

Visible discomfort flickered over Avros’ features a she played with the idea of simply lying.

From the way she had been acting the last few days, it was obvious the death of the man she'd killed was weighing heavily on her. The Root withdrawal was one thing, but he'd seen spike guilt often enough to guess when it was driving into someone's heart. Taking a life was never an easy task, even if the person whose life you took has hardly deserved it in the first place.

”Rumor floating around.” Lying would be of no use.

They would be traveling north, and eventually their paths would cross with someone who spoke the ‘truth’ echoing out from Primm. It was better to tell her now, to confront it head on. There was no telling how she reacted if a stranger spilled the news, and the last thing they needed was someone recognizing her for what she was.

”A lie.” He clarified from the start. ”But…”

Avros gripped the bundle a bit tighter. ”They say it was an Elf assassin that killed those men in Primm.”

The Prince explained.

”Probably easier to pin it on you.” He said with a grimace, knowing that the blame should have fallen on his shoulders. Not hers. ”He probably doesn't want news spreading that I'm out.”

Avros contended, though knew it wouldn't offer her much of a reprieve. If any at all.