Private Tales Wither and War

[Lale Carvyre]

Summer always felt different when in Valenntenia. Her home was away from the coast, but the Carvyre residence in Old Town gave them perfect view of the water, of the port and ships coming and going. Today, the crystalline water looked inviting, and the cooling sea breeze begged for her to dip her toes in at least.

To give herself a day off from meeting with people, to making rounds around the barracks and headquarters for the Vanguard, Lale instantly felt spoiled for choice when it came to what she could get done today. With the gentle crash of waves, the sea birds squawking, the breeze offering something cool despite the scorching day, the Lady Carvyre knew just the spot on the sandy beach that would give her plenty of cover and serenity to read her book. Within the hour, she laid out a blanket in the shade of the cliff face, letting her dark hair loose in the breeze. She had been thankful not many were down this way, and those that had seen her ensured not to bother her at the other end of the beach. There were some children jumping into the shallow waters, playing under the docks and diving for interesting shells and crabs, but their noise was easy to drown out.

Cracking open her book, she easily found where she had left off in the journal of the first Carvyre Guardian, serving the Stone of Power.

 

[Rovias]

The texture of warm sand beneath his feet always brought a strange, comforting sense of nostalgia to Rovias. When he closed his eyes and felt every individual grain between his toes with every step, he could nearly picture a place that his mind and spirit called home, though to his body it was foreign and unexplored.

His mother had been born in Ragash, at the blazing heart of the Empire, nestled in the sands of the distant Savannah. All throughout his youth, Rovias had gone to sleep while being told stories of the desert kingdoms, people living under the mercy of an unforgiving sun. His mother would draw for him, paint him pictures of gargantuan cities that these Savannah dwellers built just to spit in the face of the elements that tried so hard to see them dead.

It was reality. Non-Fiction. And yet, to a young Rovias, they were fairy tales. Those legends fueled his dreams, and drove him to pursue his talents in the arcane, in the hopes of one day achieving something so splendorous that another woman would regale the story of it to her own children.

How far he'd come.

The High Mage of Valenntenia, a wizard to be reckoned with by even the scholars of Elbion, and the warriors of Vel Anir. Rovias could create miracles with his mind. He could bend reality to his will with the wave of his hand. The power baked into his blood would be remembered long after he passed on, even at his relatively young age.

So why did he always find himself coming back to this beach? Why did his body always pull him back to the warmth? To the sand? This secluded little spot, hidden away from the everyday activity of the coastline behind a protruding cliff face, sometimes felt more like his home than his chambers within the tower. Something about the way the sun hit his skin, about the heat soaking into his flesh...

But today, there was another.

Rovias heard the sound of somebody stepping gently across the sand in front of him, and opened his eyes from where he'd sat cross-legged in a patch of sun amongst the shade cast by the cliff. It would have been hard to miss him if the visitor had bothered to look in his direction; the golden chains and jewelry that hung like ribbons around his neck and dangled over his bare chest practically glowed in the sun,

Normally, he'd simply politely usher his company away, or perhaps let them linger in silence if they were tolerable enough, but... This time, he knew the woman who laid herself down in the shade, opening a book and burying her nose into it without a care. It was a woman of some fame. Or, rather, infamy.

"Lale Carvyre. I didn't take you for a beachgoer." Rovias had risen from his spot and slowly approached the lounging Noblewoman, hands lazily resting on his hips as he cracked a cheeky smile down at her. "But I suppose you would look quite nice with a bit of a tan..."

Lale Carvyre

 

[Lale Carvyre]

Her attention did not waver from the pages of her reading, but Lale knew which Valenntenian would speaking to her.

"My mother's family have always been pale as nobility do not tend to spend much time outdoors in the sun," She replied softly, a finger tracing the words she was reading. Of course, it slowed now her full attention was not on the page, but still, Lale did not make a move to look up at the High Mage. "A shame the beach is never this quiet, or else I may be as tanned in colour to that of my cousins."

The Carvyres were a handsome bunch, blessed with their genes. Lale did not take after her mother as much as her late younger sister had. Liya would have loved Dornoch if she had been well enough for the near month travel to the city their mother hailed from.

"Can I help you, High Mage of Valenntenia?" Still, steeled grey eyes were fixed on the pages of her book. Her tone flippant, in hopes he would say something witty again and leave her be.

Rovias

 

[Rovias]

"Only if you deign to sate my boredom." Rovias replied through grinning teeth, eyes still lingering on the lounging noblewoman with a twinkle of amusement behind them. "It's not often I find myself in the company of such a revered woman. You're the talk of the town, you know?" He didn't need to tell her why. Her father's demise was imminent, and so much of the power he held, politically and financially, would fall at her feet.

Without invitation, he sits beside Lale and crosses his legs in the sand. It wasn't much in his nature to badger somebody minding their own business, much less to flirt with them, but one so antagonistic as Lale was too fun to poke and prod at. It certainly helped that she was easy on the eyes, underneath all that spite.

"I am the High Mage, but there's always room to move up. Maybe find a bit more power and wealth by wooing the right girl." Rovias snickered, scooping a handful of sand up and letting it run slowly through his fingers, the soft sound of the falling grains rather soothing to his ears. He'd need the therapeutic calm if Carvyre ended up smacking him across the face. "But maybe I shall leave you be, perhaps cast a silence across the whole beach with my power. I should like to see you bronzed to even greater beauty."

Lale Carvyre

 

[Lale Carvyre]

Finally, she tore her eyes from her book and graced Rovias with her undivided attention.

"You are such a captivating individual, I wonder what it is you truly do as High Mage." Even if she smirked, her expression turning smug, there was an edge to all Lale said and expressed. "My family have always been on the tongues of Valenntenians. Even my mother's family are well known in Dornoch. I think I would be personally offended if one did not know who I am or what my name is."

She reached for a dried piece of seaweed and stuck in between the pages she had been reading. "Alright then, Rovias the High Mage. Where is up from that? And how would a morsel of power and wealth put you beyond that?"

There was no harm or foul to look at Rovias. Over the years they had been loosely acquainted, but not a year went by that it showed on the young mage. She studied him, let her eyes peer at him now they were seated beside each other. Handsome. But she was not the type to compliment so easily like he readily did with her.

 

[Rovias]

There was an element of danger to having Lale Carvyre's undivided attention. It was akin to having the gaze of a hungry predator fixated on your every move, waiting to lash out and make a meal of you should you even twich in the wrong direction. Maybe that was what Rovias felt as she finally tore her eyes away from her book to look back at him. Or maybe that chill running down his spine only spoke to how dangerously pretty she was. Either way, it was the kind of rush that made him feel alive.

"I do things." Rovias leaned back with a self-satisfied grin, closing his eyes and letting the sea breeze blow his hair back out of his face. "Important things, things that you'd probably find very interesting." It wasn't any secret that Lale was very... opinionated. It was far too much fun to tease her with the idea of juicy information, even if it wouldn't have been too hard for her to get ahold of on her own.

"But you misunderstand me, Lale." He tilted his head towards her, eyes cracking open to match the sly smile on his lips. "When I said I had room to move up, I didn't mean in my career. I'm quite happy with my title, actually. You should see the view from my chamber sometime, it's quite breathtaking." If one could get to the window through all of his belongings strewn across the room, that is. "I was referring more to social status. It'd be quite the statement to have a Carvyre on my arm, wouldn't it?"

Oh lords, he was pushing it. But he was having far too much fun to stop.

Lale Carvyre

 

[Lale Carvyre]

Lale was used flirtations, but they usually came from men that did less than her. Those that were worthy never truly lasted either.

But Rovias caught her attention by speaking of the statement of her at his side. This garnered a raised brow. "Oh?" The smile on her lips came to life dangerously slow. "And not the other way around? The High Mage standing by my side would be quite the statement."

After all his renown, Rovias as the High Mage did not matter to Lale. Magic and faith had turned her bitter towards most things in life here, and now as she regarded him, that sharp edge could be made out from her stare. "You side with the Carvyres, you side with villains. It is what the Drommers say about my family throughout the years." Her gaze turned to the sea, watching the lazy waves reach the sand and roll in a way that made her wish she were alone on this beach and to wade into the water.

"I suppose you think yourself different from other suitors, hm? That you have a shot with the lovely Lady Lale?"

Rovias

 

[Rovias]

It took measurable effort not to roll his eyes at the villainous portrait that Carvyre attempted to paint of herself. She was a polarizing figure, he wouldn't deny it. But while so many were content to attribute the actions and agendas of her father to her by proxy, Rovias was not so simple-minded.

This was not some political revolutionary bent on upending the system as they all knew it, but a woman who inherited beliefs from her family and experiences, and expressed them with the same passion that the Absalon's grouch of a son wished he could harness.

Certainly, she hadn't sparked any riots as of late, had she? There was that bit of bother at her little ball a few months ago, and that public drama over her Father's condition and care by the Tower staff, but just as any drama did, it had waned over time.

"Lady Carvyre, I do assure you I care neither about your other suitors or what the people see in you. I am not a representative of the whole, but an individual, merely lending my considerable talents so generously to our Absalon." There almost seemed some offense taken by the implication he considered even for a moment what any would think about him sitting here on the beach with Lale, so obviously, if not exaggeratedly, courting her.

The Mage pursed his lips, tilting his face down to look at her with an expression of wit. "Nor do I have any fear of rejection, because quite frankly, I'm taking my amusement from this exchange whether you strike my face or kiss it. This is an experiment, just as my title encourages."

Lale Carvyre

 

[Lale Carvyre]

Lale did not turn to look at him as his insistence became known.

She had to admit, he had a smart tongue about him. Unfortunately, it held her intrigued by him.

After a moment, she tilted her head, then slowly turned to meet his eyes. Stormy greys peered through dark lashes, into his amber eyes. "You seem the type to enjoy being struck in the face."

Her voice was amused, the red lips quirking at the corners into a sly smile.

"I will give you once chance." It was as if she were giving away prizes like it meant nothing. Inherently, it was the Carvyre way. It bought them favour, allies, and if Lale was like her father, then she was well versed in welcoming in new acquaintances. "I am free this evening."