Dreadlords Young Relic | Vel Anir

[Drederick]

---

Faint footfalls,
treading over broken steel and bone.
Fetid flesh,
rotting dead,
all left in the wake of his desire.
Power.
​

---

Many years had now passed since he had last laid eyes upon his home, but not even such absence stirred any longing in him. Neither did it stir any contempt, and in fact for all its grandeur Vel Anir held as much importance to him as the idle rock he just passed by. That rock was a potential tool, and this city too was a similar tool. That was it - at least to him.

As he approached, he took notice of the changes that were obvious to him. Firstly, the people were hardly the down-trodden peasants he remembered. There was much more life in their face, much more colour. He detested it, and hoped that it was only the work of some recent festival or the likes, as he would not do to have sub-ordinates with a hunger for life. That had been and always should be a distant fantasy in the collective mind of the useless mass. Subservience beneath iron was all they should know and appreciate - even the festivals he detested. Morale for the people was a lie. Only fear would truly rule. And even as the thought crossed his mind, as he drew near to the open gates, several guardsmen took notice of him. He appeared to them as a wanderer, hooded with his dark cloak pulled tightly shut. It was tattered and worn, and cast a thick shadow over his visage even now in the light of day.

They approached him, numbering five.

"You there," the obvious leader shouted, "who goes?"

Drederick stopped, and shown only by a subtle motion under his hood, turned his head to he who spoke, "one who need not answer to your like."

"To get through these gates, I'd think a little different..."

The guardsmen reached for his sword.

Drederick's hand shot out from beneath his cloak, parting it, and reached toward the man. Though he was several meters away, the guardsman's arm - no all of him - froze as if grasped by some unseen force. And indeed, it was, as Drederick - conjuring his dark magic - took hold of him from afar, stopping him in his tracks, even preventing him from breathing.

"I think it is you, who should-"

"He's a Dreadlord," another of the guardsmen shouted as he pointed at the weathered and nearly indistinguishable crest that Drederick wore.

The other guardsmen around him seemed to ease. A wry smile grew on Drederick's lips, and with a gentle shove he pushed the guardsman in his grasp so that he would fall rather ungraciously. He did, but upon realizing his opponent's status, realized he was not only outmatched but outranked as well, and could make no move to retaliate.

Drederick then turned his attention back through the gates, and began to venture into the city.

 

[Siena]

"So you let him go into the city?" Siena said abruptly, staring at the Guardsmen with a gaze that could melt steel.

The man in front of her seemed to stammer slightly, his mouth opening as he stuttered over his words and rubbed at the back of his head.

"I err...well...Ma'am he's a Dreadlord, and we weren't sure if he...ya know was one of them with us or just...he had some very old clothes."​

"Yes." She agreed. "Your men said, which is why you detain him."

In truth she could not fault the Guardsmen too much. Even a year after the Revolution things were still...confusing. Dreadlord's were not part of the Anirian Guard, not set aside like before, but within the structure of the military. Yet just where they fit was still constantly being argued about.

Majors and General's could well order them around, but regular Guardsmen or Lieutenants like herself? Well that all depended on the Dreadlord, or in her experience...just how forceful you were willing to be.

Though Siena was not unaware that she herself was a rather special case.

A sigh escaped her. "Alright, which way did he go at least?"

"I err...Into the city?"​

"Fuck me running, man." Siena said with a slap to her own face. "Learn to do your job or don't try to do it!"

The BlackGuard barked angrily, turning away from the Guardsmen and darting into the city.

 

[Lysander]

Lysander was arriving back home. Alone. He had a indifferent face with brows only slightly narrowed, ready to be chewed out for the fact that his comrade had been so impulsive that they got incinerated to be nothing more than a pile of ash. It didn’t help that he was never displaying any emotion so that the captain would assume that Lysander had somehow purposely gotten rid of someone. That he somehow, deep inside, was still acting like a dreadlord before the revolution. But Lysander had hardly acted like that even once he graduated. He only did what was ordered, that was absolutely all.

It was upon him stepping foot at the gate of the great walls that he saw the group of guardsmen to the side, anxiously looking at another guard talking to a woman— Lysander squinted, seeming to recognize the figure. A few paces closer and Lysander realized that he did know the woman. Lieutenant Alforth. From before. He noted the fact that she looked exasperated, and the slap to her face only confirmed that fact.

“What’s going on?” Lysander asked the guardsman just as Siena ran off. Lysander’s uninterested gaze didn’t leave her form that was soon shrinking smaller and smaller.

“Possible unidentified dreadlord in the city—“ A click of the tongue was Lysander’s only reply. Well, no wonder why Siena seemed like she was ready to pull some of her own hair out of her head. It wasn’t his place, Lysander knew that, no order was upon him to follow her. Regardless, he followed after her swiftly, nimbly moving through pockets of people, searching for brown hair and lithe form of the woman.

If she dismissed him, fine, he’d head on his way to do what he was originally was supposed to. But while she may have been a Null, nearly everyone in the city wasn’t, and he was quite good at crowd control. He figured she would need his services.

 

[Ventress]

Here lies Isbrand Lorel
Dreadlord
Archon​

Ventress stood by his grave, staring down at the headstone. The beauty of the day did not match the somberness of the cemetery. Deep blue spread unbroken across the sky, green grass waved with this warm breeze and that. She was alone, save for the rows of headstones and the birdsongs emanating from the trees lining the cemetery's walkways.

She stood with her hands folded sharply in the small of her back, feet precisely shoulder-width apart. And she stared. Stared for a long time in stillness and silence down at his headstone, a singular expression unchanging upon her visage.

Eventually, she came to descend down. To sit on her haunches. One hand she rested on her knee. The other she slowly reached forward, laying it down gently upon the arching stone etched with those six forlorn words. She touched the headstone as one might have laid flowers.

"We should have been here."

In time she came to bow her head. And like this she stayed.

When at last Ventress rose she in curiosity touched her face, having felt an oddness there. She pulled her hand back, and the fingers thereof glistened in the daylight. Her singular expression broke into one of shock. With uncharacteristic imprecision she with fumbling fingers reached into her pocket for a handkerchief and she dabbed quickly, efficiently, at her cheeks, her eyes. She glanced around the cemetery to see if anyone had been watching but there was no one.

She folded the handkerchief back into a perfect square, pocketed it again, turned on her heel and departed the cemetery.

Today was a day in which she had no other duties to attend. An "off day." These were the days she loathed the most, for all they did was give her time in which to long for her service to House Sirl. Now she on pain of death served the filthy, traitorous rebels of the military who orchestrated Sirl's downfall. Exile was an unacceptable alternative. This way, at least, she could bide her time, awaiting and creating opportunity to return her sworn House to prominence.

Ventress was on her way to Anir Square, to the markets there, her true intentions under lock and key.

Drederick Siena Lysander

 

[Drederick]

There was a bustle in the streets, and the crowd grew thicker the further in he went. And though his pace could be described as almost leisurely, he moved with a peculiar speed, strangely unhindered by the increasing traffic. There was something that seemed to incline those who drew close to him away from his path, surrendering a shoulder or stepping aside completely - but it seemed to be something they did not even notice in themselves.

And yes, this was Drederick's doing.

Hidden beneath his cloak, beneath his robes, strange etchings in his skin glowed red.

He'd not returned to Vel Anir without first preparing himself. He expected nothing and anything all at once, and regardless of where or when he travelled he always preferred to preform a variety of rituals beforehand. In this case, if one were to travel a short ways off the road just less than a day's walk from the city, they might come across a strange and horrible sight - a circle burned in the earth, and the remains of several unfortunate travelers.

Their lives ended to fuel his dark wishes. For now.

And so his subtle influence reached out and allowed him safe passage through the masses of idle minds who were simply drifting through their day. Those more focused or aware were spared from his droning, subtle magic.

So because of this, he passed through the people with haste and soon found himself in Anir Square. He remembered many years ago, being here in the square to watch a parade. He remembered a kidnapping of someone important, and he remembered whispers of war. He was much younger then.

But as he looked around he began to notice more and more changes, and more and more the city seemed unfamiliar to him. It was then that he heard a shout, and inconspicuously he turned his attention that way. A guardsman, pointing at him. He'd been spotted, and apparently, he was being sought. He cast his eyes around and noticed that there were several guardsmen, at least a dozen this time, who encroached around him. He saw no sign of this Siena or Lysander yet, not that he even imagined them chasing after him, but as it was for the moment he saw no one of particular danger to him.

And for a moment he debated his next course of action, and thought, what would any Dreadlord do?

He reached, and the sound of his steel scraping against its scabbard was sharp and quick.

He would remind these fools how to conduct themselves when dealing with a Dreadlord.

---

Siena | Lysander | Ventress​

 

[Siena]

Vel Anir was a city like no other.

Though it had gone through a horde of undead, a revolution by Dreadlords, the people here were still themselves. Men and women both knew what to do when a fight was about to break out, and that was a simple procedure; get the fuck out.

As soon as the sound of drawn steel echoed in the square people quickly began to move away from it. They rushed away in every direction, quickly giving the Guards space to do whatever it was they needed to do.

The flow of people came quickly, and as Siena turned a corner with Lysander nearby The BlackGuard immediately noticed. "Shit shit shit."

Siena cursed.

"Can't we just have one nice day." She said, shaking her head and quickly beginning to push her way through the crowd of streaming people. "Excuse me, pardon me."

Siena said, practically shoving people aside. "MOVE!"

She bellowed in an attempt to get through faster.

 

[Lysander]

Lysander heard the shouts of the citizens before knowing what was ahead of them in the square. It was almost like a stampede, and considering Lysander wasn’t the tallest or broadest man, he could feel people rushing into him. He felt like a fish swimming through rapids, trying to get upstream. He could only hope when he arrived at his destination there wasn’t a bear lying in wait.

“Lieutenant Alforth!” He shouted to Siena, moving against the crowd, getting closer and closer to her. Meanwhile, his gimlet gaze was searching, looking over everything. What were they running from? Who? He didn’t see an explosion of flames or earth or lightening. No horrors seemed to reach his mind, no obvious illusion (unless the crowd was an illusion which was entirely possible) or even a flash of red.

With a deep breath, Lysander understood that this crowd was a hinderance. The only good thing about them making themselves scarce from the scene was that it meant less casualties. It also meant that if it was the unidentified dreadlord that had frightened them, he could be using this as a good opportunity for a distraction.

And so he began to push citizens to the side, parting the sea of people for Siena to get through faster, a path before her that would be only for her.

 

[Ventress]

In the air tingled the sense of urgency before Ventress saw even the first stirrings of people evacuating from the Square. From farther down the avenue came the wave of people pushing their way through their confused compatriots, which in turn inspired those who had not seen what they had seen to nevertheless join with them.

Normally, way would have been given for her. Ventress was not imposing based on her stature, no--there were plenty of young men who stood taller than her, who weighed perhaps twice as much. It was the manner in which she carried herself. Anirians need not even know at a glance that she was a Dreadlord. If they saw her coming, a simple look was enough to convince them that politely stepping aside was their wisest choice.

These rules changed in a panic.

Four brief flashes of subtle golden light went off simultaneously in front of Ventress, and four Projections of herself stood as a shield before her. They served as a bulwark against the tide of fleeing citizens, guiding them away with their mere presence or forcing them away pushes of arcane energy if bumped into. Ventress preferred not to be touched in such a manner by the retreating citizenry--how many unwashed hands were among them?

As the tide of people flowed around her and her Projections, Ventress lifted in turn each forearm skyward and stretched open the tight sleeves of her jacket with a finger. She checked the mechanisms of her wrist-spikes by giving each a quick activation, the eight inch spikes popping out with a sharp CHNGK sound and retracting with a drawn out and smooth metal scraping each.

Good. After making orderly this disturbance, she could resume her own business.

Presently, Ventress and her Projections were moving into the Square, approaching opposite from Siena and Lysander. She had yet to get eyes on the source of the commotion, Drederick, but through the gaps of the last departing citizens her pristine white uniforms stood in stark relief, readily seen.

Drederick Siena Lysander

 

[Drederick]

The crowd, wisely, dispersed, and it seemed there were some things in this city that never changed.

The Guardsmen moved closer, likewise drawing their steel.

He measured them, and sensed them around him. He was surrounded.

He lifted his sword, and they ordered for his surrender.

"Surrender? I am a Dreadlord, the very pinnacle of Vel Anir's might, and you dare demand my surrender?"

There was the shouting of the departing crowd, the mutterings of the nearing Guardsmen, and others too who were coming closer - he could hear them now as he focused. And in these moments he considered all that was happening, and it came to him that perhaps this should be approached differently. He found it odd that, in spite of his altercation at the gate, they came for him. He had grown over the last few years since his disappearance and he was not quite so vain - he hardly imagined they were looking for him specifically.

"What is the meaning of this," he demanded, "what rights do you have to question me?"

---

Siena | Lysander | Ventress​

 

[Siena]

Siena almost quite literally slid into place as she entered the market.

Her two swords remained in their scabbards as she happened upon the scene, glancing at the Guardsmen surrounding Drederick and feeling a hint of panic hit her chest. Lips thinned as she assessed the situation, eyes flickering over her fellow Guard.

She knew that all of them to a man would due their duty, and she knew that all of them to a man would die if she was not careful.

The weight of that fact settled on her shoulders as she took in a breath, as she stepped forward out of the crowd Lysander was dispersing. Her hands remained far away from her blades, drawn to her sides as she stepped forward. "The right of the New Republic."

Siena declared, speaking over any other that might have answered.

"The Dreadlord's lead a Revolution." It was not exactly the truth, but close enough to it. "The Houses have been overthrown, and the People now rule."

Her fingers flittered. "Come with me."

Siena begged. "And I'll show you what this city has become."

 

[Lysander]

Lysander stayed behind Siena, but even he could hear the dreadlord’s words. A slight twinge of doubt overcame Lysander. There was no way, was there? Had someone, especially a dreadlord, been unaware of the state that Vel Anir was currently in? He supposed it could be possible, but at the same time, it was quite dubious. It was over a year since the revolution, did this man not think to stop in a town, to ask questions? Had he really not heard any news? Where the heck was he coming from anyways?

Lysander let Siena speak, after all, it was best if she handled the situation. He also recognized the predicament they were in and how easily it could turn into bad. Which was why he lingered about. His eyes didn’t leave Drederick, not once. And he didn’t want his eyes to leave the target. Siena may have been speaking rather kindly to him, and it may have just been so he would comply, but Lysander only knew one thing about every dreadlord he had ever met.

The moment your guard was down was the moment you would die.

At least Siena was here. She was capable. She could handle this. He was certain of it. There couldn’t be anything that could ruin this for them, to get this dreadlord under control and no longer a danger to the city of Vel Anir.

 

[Ventress]

Two golden flashes.

The Fifth Projection of Ventress appeared halfway between Drederick and Siena. She held up her outstretched hand politely to Siena, Lysander, the guardsmen, like a sentry at a gate calmly performing her duty. Stop.

The Sixth Projection of Ventress appeared right beside Drederick. Her hands were casually held behind her back, and she stood at ease.

Across the Square, with its vacated stalls and benches and emptied plazas, the real Ventress and her shield of Projections stood. There was not yet any further need for them to approach.

The Sixth Projection slowly turned her head. Glanced at Drederick. And she asked, "Which House did you serve."

She wanted to hear him say it.

Drederick Siena Lysander

 

[Drederick]

First, Siena appeared quite abruptly with proclamation of a New Republic. Drederick nearly scoffed, but held his composure for now. He eyed her curiously as she spoke, and though his demeanour seemed to ease, he still held his sword in hand.

It was an interesting sword, clearly not Anirian make. It was a hand and a half sword, totally black, and plain.

Then Ventress appeared. Then she appeared again, standing both before and beside him. He betrayed no start, and instead looked to the version of her that had appeared near his side almost casually.

"Which House did you serve."
​

The wry smile returned, and a scheme took shape in his mind.

"I served no house. When I left I was but a learner, but make no mistake, that is no longer so," he looked between the first two now, sheathing his sword and then dropping his hood, "I am Drederick Archanis, I am a Dreadlord of Vel Anir, and I have returned to serve."

He looked to Siena plainly and said, "show me then, if you will."

---

Siena | Lysander | Ventress​

 

[Siena]

Siena tensed slightly as she noted the arrival of another Dreadlord. She quickly glanced at the woman, looking her over and trying to ascertain whether she would be friend or for. Lips thinned for a brief moment when she demanded Drederick's house.

A sigh of relief escaped her as the boy slid his sword back into his scabbard. "Yes."

The BlackGuard said, letting some of the tension drain out of her. She looked to the Dreadlord for a moment, then back behind her where Lysander stood. For a moment she hesitated, and then leaned in to whisper in his ear.

"Be ready still. I'm not entirely sure he's stable." Dreadlord's often weren't in her experience.

She cleared her throat, and began to approach Drederick.

"We'll start in Anir Square." The Guardswoman said as she stepped forward. "It was destroyed during the Revolution."

Archon Isbrand had seen to that. "But it's being rebuilt now, by Dreadlords and masons. We'll be able to talk to some of them."

She glanced at Ventress, wondering if the woman would help...or throw all this into chaos.

 

[Lysander]

Lysander’s eyes narrowed slightly at the sight of Ventress, picking up… were those clones? He wasn’t quite sure how he felt about her, he recognized her, somewhat. Nothing particularly bad nor good. Yet her magic, it was one that chilled Lysander. Not that his face revealed such a thing. The entire time he had showed a face that was solemn or mildly irritated, yet the moment Drederick said his name, mild shock briefly appeared on Lysander’s face.

He didn’t say anything, until Siena whispered into his ear to be on his guard. He cleared his throat, a quick nod with his head before he looked at Drederick, and followed behind Siena and Drederick, placing him in between them was the safest option. The white haired woman could do as she pleased, as long as she didn’t interefere.

“Drederick Archanis was an underclassman of mine.” Lysander’s voice was steady, raised just enough to travel to this man claiming to be Drederick and Siena’s ears. “He left and never returned, it was presumed he was dead.” Lysander explained with a deadpan look that perfectly complimented his monotonous words. He was watching Drederick closely, wondering if the man would recognize him as well. But what if he didn’t? What would that mean?

Some sort of imposter in Drederick’s body? Or maybe Drederick had amnesia? Or perhaps was he pretending to not know so he could pull off a more sinister plan?

 

[Ventress]

The Fifth Projection winked out of existence, disappearing as suddenly as she had been manifested--though it lacked a flash of golden light accompanying the vanishing.

The Sixth Projection--an extension of Ventress herself--craned her head in an intrigued manner. None, he had said. Somehow this Dreadlord, Drederick Archanis, had departed Vel Anir without pledging to a House. Which meant he had escaped from the Academy.

He should have been hunted down and killed. Had he returned a year earlier, he would have been executed on the spot.

Times changed. Siena said as much. Yes, that Siena. The Dreadlords of Sirl had maintained a list of Nulls--the danger they posed to their affairs not to be underestimated. Interactions with them, in Ventress's experience, were invariably unpleasant. It was to her chagrin that through common association as part of the military she and Siena were "on the same side." Times had changed.

The real Ventress and her shield of Projections kept their distance across the Square. The Sixth Projection simply stood off to Drederick's side, allowing for him and Siena to speak unimpeded. The boy said he had "returned to serve."

Disappointing. His mind would be poisoned by Siena, with her talk of the "Revolution," and Ventress was not in a position to enlighten him on what truly happened.

A lowly rebellion.

Drederick Siena Lysander

 

[Drederick]

Drederick nodded, interested to see what had come since this supposed revolution. His time away had afforded him some wisdom, and though he was not entirely sure what he thought of what had come, time would only tell, and he would make up his mind soon enough. At least, that is, as to what course of action he would take. His end goal was always the same.

They'd just turned to leave when Lysander spoke...

“Drederick Archanis was an underclassman of mine...
He left and never returned, it was presumed he was dead.”
​

Drederick stopped and turned to meet Lysander's eyes. He looked upon him with a similar, cold emptiness that if Lysander did remember him, would likely recall. The two were not very dissimilar in this regard, and Drederick remembered this. His time away had clouded much of his memory regarding specifics of his training, at least as far as immediate recollection. Now that he looked upon him more closely, he recalled.

"Lysander isn't it? Yes, no doubt I was presumed dead."

He turned and carried on to continue following Siena's lead.

"But, it was not a matter of simply leaving. I was chosen to accompany a contingent of Guards to preform a ritual. It was to be a relatively uneventful mission, one in which magic was of great use but to send a Dreadlord would be... a waste. So they chose me and several other apprentices to depart... to fell trees," an almost sarcastic smile took shape, "and we were mercilessly assaulted by Falwood's inhabitants... tell me, did Elise Virak make it back alive?"

If so, that may have to change.

---

Siena | Lysander | Ventress ​

 

[Siena]

She nodded as Lysander gave his explanation, and then shifted into step. Frederick responded just a moment later, and she noted that he had good ears.

Siena listened to the story closely. She remembered the incident, though only barely. Such things had been common in the old days. Great Houses demanding and plucking Initiates and Dreadlords for their own schemes. It had always been something of a nightmare, especially for the guard. She could recall going on several of those kinds of missions herself.

Most of them had been a nightmare of sorts, better left forgotten. "Lady Virak is alive and well."

The BlackGuard did not sound in the least enthused about that fact.

"She now sits on the Anirian Parliament, representing the city of Vel Tyros." Her voice tightened as she passed that information. Siena had firmly sat in the camp which had wanted to see the deaths of most nobles, much less wanted them elected to office.

Yet the people of Vel Tyros had voted overwhelmingly to put Lady Elise as their representative, likely because of the sheer amount of money The Virak's had poured into the city over the centuries.

"Everyone is offered a new start in the Republic." She said quietly, before adding in a whisper to herself. "Even those that don't deserve it."

 

[Lysander]

Mild shock appeared on Lysander’s face. So… it was Drederick after all. His face soon settled back into that stoic shield of indifference as he mulled this over. There were some shallow similarities between the two of them. They had both been very powerful in their respective years, enough so that Lysander had recognized a younger initiate and had a thought almost every initiate used to have about each other before the revolution: could I kill him? And that thought was returning as Siena spoke to Drederick, informing him of all the changes.

He did find it strange that Drederick would ask about Elise Virak of all people. He couldn’t tell if it was because he had positive or negative notions about the noble. Lysander was indifferent to her, as long as nothing were to happen that could harm his younger brother.

Lysander then looked at the projection of Ventress near Drederick, and then craned his neck, looking about and around. Why was she so far? Or, which one was her and which one wasn’t? Did he even want them to get close? Could he trust the white haired woman? Probably as much as he could trust Drederick. Or maybe less. His steel-blue gaze then drifted back in front of him as Siena finished speaking, listening to her words.

Frankly he couldn’t agree more on her finishing words.

Ventress Drederick Siena

 

[Ventress]

The Republic thought itself superior to the alliance of houses which had come before. They were not. Merely, the bloody axe which maintained the nation had been passed to them. It thirsted just the same for those who opposed the regime, be they foreign or citizen.

And the blood of House Sirl stained that axe most prominently. A fact which Ventress loathed. Her pledge to House Sirl she did not take lightly, her loyalty a source of fulfillment and pride and purpose. Had House Sirl joined in with the Republic, she would have followed. But they fought until the end, seeing the "Revolution" as a rebellion, and so Ventress saw nothing but traitors in those who supported it. A solace to her: that Archon Isbrand expunged many of them before the traitors eventually took his life.

The Sixth Projection winked out of existence, leaving but the real Ventress and her bulwark of four projections across the Square, observing from afar. She had nothing to say. Nothing she could say--not in front of Siena or Lysander. Hers was a position of ostensible loyalty to and acceptance of the new Republic. Maintenance of desired appearances required that she "agree" with them.

Only if she caught Drederick alone could she employ honesty, and speak the truth of what happened one year ago.

Drederick Siena Lysander

 

[Drederick]

He felt a mix of emotion at the news that not only was Lady Virak alive and well, but she was even a representative in this new republic. And though Drederick was unfamiliar with House Virak's sway over Vel Tyros, he thought it ironic all the same.

"Everyone is offered a new start in the Republic...
…Even those that don't deserve it."
​

"So the hammer falls from the same hands..."

It was then he noticed Ventress' apparition disappear. He stopped in his tracks, regardless of what the others did. He turned in his place, looking off through the now recollecting crowds to the true Ventress, or at least who he could only assume was the true her.

The one in the center of many of the same.

He studied her for a moment, and regardless of if the others remained in earshot or not he mused out loud, "she's a Dreadlord, is she not," it was then that if Lysander was near he'd turn to look at him briefly and then back, but say aloud regardless with a cruel smile across his lips, "I wonder if I could kill her."

Gods did he hope that she had some unnatural gift to hear his words, which he feared would struggle to carry so far without.

---

Siena | Lysander | Ventress ​

 

[Siena]

Siena tensed slightly at the words.

It was a question that she had asked herself dozens of times over the last year. From a military standpoint she understood the usefulness of Dreadlords, knew why they were necessary. Yet for many of their kind she couldn't help but harbor a level of distrust.

Save for the few that she had truly befriended, she knew that they were dangerous. Exceptionally so. "Let us hope you will never have to find out."

Siena was no fool, she could see the boy, how he acted. It didn't take a genius to figure out that he wanted to find out. Yet her role here was diplomacy, an ease of access to this new Vel Anir. There were a thousand other folk who would have done a better job of course, she'd just gotten here first.

"And besides." She contended. "At least there is other hands on the hammer now."

To use his own analogy. "Even those who were born right here."

Siena said, gesturing to the merchant quarter they found themselves in.

 

[Lysander]

“It’s not like that anymore, Drederick.” Lysander spoke up, the corners of his lips ever so slightly tilting downward. “It’s not about killing our own kind anymore.” He didn’t really know how else to explain it, or how much he should explain. Siena was leading them around Vel Anir, explaining things as politically correct one could. It’s not that they could trust Drederick, even if now he was being compliant. There were just things that he said that caused Lysander to be hesitant because they were thoughts of the past.

Did the past really have any place here? Could Drederick even be reformed? Lysander looked about this part of the city, a place he tended not to frequent very often. The hustle and bustle of citizens moving around and bartering didn’t calm him in the slightest, instead it caused the hair on the back of his neck to raise up.

“Whether someone is a dreadlord or not, the Republic is making equal opportunities for everyone. Equitability is encouraged.” Lysander felt to say that was okay, perhaps it was too much, but it was better than dancing around the point of a dreadlord’s place within vel anir. Houses were no longer scouting and recruiting and bribing the best of the best. Even the strongest dreadlords could find themselves working at an entry level guard position. Heck, now after the academy they technically didn’t need to serve any time in the military— they could sign off on that duty and do something just for themselves.

Lysander didn’t dare say that though. It may have been years since he had even seen Drederick but even he knew how ridiculous that would sound to someone who still had the academy’s teachings woven throughout their mind.

Drederick Siena

 

[Drederick]

Drederick's eyes watched Ventress for only so long. In truth, he did not at all wish to kill her, at least not yet. But there could indeed be no denying, he did want to, and he believed he could. Perhaps someday he would make such an attempt, but this was not such a day. No, instead his words were chosen to antagonize his companions, to see their harsh rebuttal - yet they were much more forgiving of his words than he anticipated. What he had expected was the old way, simply tucked beneath a silkier blouse: immediate, unforgiving judgement.

But that is not what he was returned.

“It’s not like that anymore, Drederick.”
​

He turned to them and heard them out. He looked to the merchant's stall as Siena gestured, and looked to Lysander as he spoke of... equal opportunities. He eyed them both, his eyes thick with a shrouding veil, for though it be said they are windows to the soul, there was no looking in through these.

He turned away from them now, and as he looked around at the people passing by, going about their business, seeming to have forgotten about the fright just moment ago, he echoed Lysander's words in an almost dumbfounded way, "equal... opportunity..."

And though it would appear that his interest was growing, it would unfortunately not be in a way Siena, or Lysander, would likely support. For he, was a Dreadlord. No a one to the other was truly equal, and placed next to these eaters no suitable scale would be found. It was a fallacy, and so be it if all of Vel Anir subscribed, then it was a fallacy he could make use of. All the better for him if those without magic, and even those within, believed themselves the same as he.

It would be all the more terrible for them, when they saw truth. It would be all that more horrible, when the die.

"I wish... to know more," he said, managing to hide his grin.

---

Siena | Lysander | Ventress ​

 

[Siena]

"Of the Republic?" There was quite a lot to explain, and in truth Siena was hardly the best one to do the explaining. She knew enough for it to make sense to her, but all the ins and outs escaped her.

At the end of the day she was a soldier, not a politician of a clerk.

Still, she could tell Drederick what she knew. "Vel Anir is no longer a Monarchy."

Most had thought for the past two centuries that the King was still the final authority, a lie that had of course been perpetuated by the Great Houses. Unbeknownst to most folk, they had been the true power behind the throne, though now they were supposedly reduced to an equal of everyone else.

The only thing setting them apart being their preposterous wealth. In all fairness, those riches had been taxed, near every house paying massive indemnities to the New Republic. A fact they had spun as being voluntary of course, though some Houses had taken it better than others.

"The Anirian Parliament leads us, with it's executive Council taking care of things that need...quicker decisions. That's headed by the Prime Minister." Siena explained then continued.

"Each Anirian City gets several representatives depending on their population, with Vel Anir itself having the most." Given that it was also the largest city. "Elections are held in batches every two years, with a full third of the seats up for election. The Executive Council is then chosen by the representatives."

Of course there were special circumstance elections for deaths or resignations, but Siena didn't feel the need to state that. "The current Prime Minister is former General Del'Karth. She resigned her post in from the Guard when she was elected."

"Anyone can stand for election, from the lowliest farmer to even the former King if he wanted to." A shrug rolled over her shoulders. "There are some...kinks to be worked out, but it's only been a year."