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."

 

[Rovias]

Rovias placed a coy hand upon his chest, feigning the utmost innocence. "Perhaps I am, Lady Carvyre. Time permitting, maybe we'll find out together." He sounded so sure of himself, so completely certain of every word he spoke. Even as she relented and offered him her time, he didn't show any outward sign of relief or ecxitement. Only that witty little smirk, growing ever larger as he rose to his feet.

"The Golden Rose, in three hours. You are familiar, no?" The Golden Rose was an establishment located in the old town, originally a bar where some of the oldest and most renowned Guardians and Vanguard had unwound after long hours of defending a young Valenntenia, in more recent years it had been renovated into something far more upscale, a place only the privileged and elite of the City could dine and drink. "I do hope you'll not stand me up."

Rovias let her be, walking away from the beauty lounging in the sand with a certain satisfaction he'd gained from the encounter. Not that he'd scored a date with one of the most infamous bachelorette's in all of Valenntenia, or that he'd piqued the interest of a woman so particular that oftentimes even entering a conversation could be a daunting task, no.

For just a moment, he'd made Lale Carvyre smile. An ice queen she wasn't. Or, if she was...

Rovias had the heat to melt her.

Lale Carvyre

 

[Lale Carvyre]

Old Town was a home to her no matter how much time she spent away from it. Her ancestors helped shaped this first settlements in the time of the Ancients, and the name of her family written in every historic text detailing the growth of Valenntenia. No matter who was born to the name Carvyre, it granted you access to many things in this City of Ancients.

The Golden Rose had been one of the establishments her mother contributed to by helping fund the renovations, and thus meant Lale was a frequent member to get away from the public after a days work.

Rovias had asked to see her in three hours, but she got there earlier than he would expect. She had a table the attendants always kept clear for her, one that kept her from facing the other tables in the room. It was here that the music was not too loud, but a gentle softness that reached her and did not distract her. It was where she could be left alone and not bothered, and the staff knew not to bother her until they saw her glass drained.

She still had her book from earlier, having made a dent in progress while she awaited the High Mage's arrival.

 

[Rovias]

Despite Lale's earlier implication that Rovias was lacking in things to keep him busy, the duties of the High Mage nearly made him late. Introducing the first of the new Training Runes to Mikko had gone well enough, but the man had taken longer than expected to recover, at least enough to where Rovias felt comfortable not monitoring him. Frustrating, but educational. He'd be sure to assign the next ones in a more controlled environment.

It had been some time since Rovias had visited The Golden Rose. It was Solomon who'd taken him last, during the conversation in which he'd invited Rovias to become High Mage. It certainly hadn't lost any splendor, and he fit right in with the setting, dressed in a fine maroon robe, with collar popped out over his neck and long hanging tassels of gold running from his chest around to the back of the ensemble.

Lale may not have been so brightly dressed, but even in rags she would have stood out amongst the crowd. She was different, in both her presence and demeanor, from any other that he'd ever met. It took nary a moment to spot her, striking black hair falling down her back, that lovely face still buried in her book.

"I have to admit..." He spoke softly, sliding into the seat opposite Carvyre. Rovias' lips curved into a grin, looking a bit more mundane than usua; the mage had removed all of his peircings save for the one in his nose out of respect, aware that they could be an acquired taste. "I wasn't sure you'd actually show up, Lale."

Once seated, Rovias slid the robe from his shoulders and let it fall to the back of his chair, leaving him in a fine, white shirt that hung open in a 'V' at the neck.

"I'm usually quite cross about being incorrect, but in this instance, I'm glad I was. You look lovely."

Lale Carvyre

 

[Lale Carvyre]

Once again, her eyes did not leave her page when she lifted a finger for him to wait until she finished, securing a length of ribbon to mark the place she last read. Her eyes lifted to Rovias now, a more subdued look to the Mage that earned him a inquisitive raising of a brow.

"My family have frequented this establishment since it has been redone. My attendance should not have been questioned, as you now look a fool for doubting me." But a twitch of a smile pulled at her painted lips. She leaned back into her chair, allowing her gaze to take him in before rising back to his amber eyes. "Well? What fascinating conversation are you hoping to charm me with this evening?"

She would hope this would not take all night, or be boring to start. Perhaps she could humour herself and play along to whatever wooing the High Mage had up his sleeves, but even that sort of flattery was quick to exhaust.

Ripping him to ribbons seemed a better use of her time.

 

[Rovias]

There it was: That dark thunderstorm was brewing behind those eyes of grey, already bored of him, already looking to move on to something that could entertain her properly. Carvyre was like a panther, roaming freely wherever her want took her, and baring her fangs at anything that dare waste her time. If Rovias had asked her to come here for idle chatter and light flirtation, she would leave him alone at this table in minutes.

It was good, then, that he had just the thing to keep her attention focused soley on him.

"You implied earlier that you did not know of my work." Rovias drummed his fingers on the table as he settled back in the seat, a comfortable smile on his lips as he so openly toyed with the idea of giving such sensitive information out to one quite hostile towards the current leadership of the City. "That perhaps, my title of High Mage was one I did not truly earn. Tonight, with a candlelit dinner and some fine spirits, I wish to respond thusly..."

Slowly, he slid forward, his arms reaching across the table to grip its sides with his hands. The High Mage leaned in, craning his neck and tilting his head to speak in a hushed words, almost whispers, in her ear. In speaking these whispers he betrayed the trust of an Absalon, but seeing how Carvyre reacted, to know if this made her tick, was well worth it.

"I create runestones."

Lale Carvyre

 

[Lale Carvyre]

Grey eyes flicked to his face before her head could turn to meet him inches away. She waited a moment, two, as if to test if he was speaking heresy or truth, but there was something in his expression that made her believe he was capable of both. Their closeness did not bother her, did not yield any reaction other than the narrowing of her eyes at his claim.

"And how is that possible, High Mage? What blood flows through your veins to allow you the arcane magic of the Ancients?"

Magic was not at all ruled out in the people of Valenntenia. Lale herself had dedicated herself to know and learn whatever magical properties or theories to ensure she did not witness another life fade before her eyes. Everyone but her father deserved her help. That topic was for another night, another drink.

"Should I be impressed? Any smart mind would be able to dedicate themselves to the texts left by the earlier descendants to piece together how the Stones were made." But Lale tilted her head, still staring at him. "But what I am interested in is whether or not the Absalon will accept these Stones."

 

[Rovias]

Hook. Line. Sinker.

"It has nothing to do with the magic of the Ancients, Miss Carvyre. I would never dare suggest myself as powerful as our forefathers." The smugness that exuded from him as he spoke in such hushed tones to her suggested, though, that he perhaps thought himself closer than he cared to say aloud. "But I am a damned good mage, and I found another way. One that didn't require the blood of deities, or centuries of planning."

Rovias enjoyed this proximity, this unblemished view of that famously cold face. She was always so unmoved by everything, so difficult to read. She'd only barely given him acknowledgement, and yet the flickers in her expression, those small glimpses into the woman she hid, it was captivating.

Alas, their drinks had arrived. Rovias settled back into his seat, that playful, satisfied smirk still resting on his lips all the way until they parted to accept that first drink of fire into his gut. "If you think it that simple, I implore you, give it a try. But I promise you mine is the only method that will come to light in either of our lifetimes. As for the Absalon..." He chuckled around the rim of his mug.

"Who do you think sanctioned the research in the first place, Lale?"

Lale Carvyre

 

[Lale Carvyre]

Lale did not shy from him, even as he held her gaze.

And yet, as he fell back into his own seat, her eyes still were on him with careful attention. The bastard had pulled her in, hanging for his very words that spoke on those smug lips. There, the moment he surprised Lale. Her brows arched slightly, not voicing her amazement outright.

That would be too much credit to the likes of Rovias.

"I feel as if he would definitely not like you telling me all these secrets." A sly smirk quirked at one corner, but her amusement lit up her stormy gaze. "There is sad and angered history between my family and his. Surely, you knew of that?"

Rovias

 

[Rovias]

Lale was so accustomed to being surrounded by loyal bootlickers to anyone with a title that she wasn't used to people having minds and motives of their own, it seemed. Rovias worked for The Absalon, but that didn't mean he always had Solomon's wants in mind. He was off the clock, and this was about him.

"I am aware, of course." He offered with a shrug. "But as I'm neither a Regis nor a Carvyre, I fail to see how it matters to me. I may be Solomon's High Mage, but I'm not his confidant. I'll share my work with whomever I please." Were his motives for dropping this delicious little tidbit purely selfish? Of course. If anybody could understand acting for oneself, though, surely it was Lale.

Silently their food came, placed gently on the table between them. Rovias didn't pair it a glance; this little game between them was the most fulfilling and delectable treat he could ever have asked for. Still, his hand found his fork, twirling it idly between his fingers.

"You mistake me for a self-righteous tower dweller, Lale. But we're not as different as you think."

Lale Carvyre

 

[Lale Carvyre]

Lale clicked her tongue and looked down to the food before her. "It should matter to you whether or not you are associated with my family. The Carvyres have always been Valenntenia's cautionary tale, and by doing business with us, because this is business between us, others may become wary of you." Her gaze flicked to his, peering from under her dark lashes.

"Appearances are everything. All eyes have been on me since my return, and now that will mean they will be on you too. If you wish to keep favour with the right people, then perhaps you should appear like a tower dweller."

Reaching for her drink, she took a slow sip from it. "This is not me pushing you away. This is how you play the game, and I am watching the board like a hawk."

Lale was not a manipulator, at least she was not following in the footsteps of her father. She was an orchestrator. The influence of her family was now resting upon her, and to keep that power her own, she had to keep her capable uncles at bay. Even the Vanguard that have turned grateful for the efforts she was making in giving them a voice to be heard, Lale knew how their strings were struck.

But Rovias... she was still learning where to place him in accompaniment of all gathered.

For a good long moment, Lale assessed him. "Tell me more about these new Stones."

Rovias