H200qnb.png

no-lightbox
The room suddenly felt more crowded once again. Another dance commenced, this time with a Dradmidian tune. Prince Jerian came back into view as he walked across the room, guards at his sides, to greet the Krei nobleman Cordelia had danced with earlier. They exchanged pleasantries for a time that looked to be formal and polite, their expressions and demeanor never wavering from a reserved air. Sothal’s brother seemed charismatic and far more sociable, and people seemed to be drawn more towards his personality due to how easy he made conversation. They parted ways formally, and the prince disappeared into the crowd once again.

“Excuse me,” Lord Altrey said as he approached Cordelia. He inclined his head respectfully and held out his arm for her to receive. “The Demonstration is set to begin shortly. I've been asked to escort you to your observation station.”

A brow quirked as Cordelia looked to the man. There was an ill feeling in her gut, a subconscious urgency to flee, but she had meant what she’d told Sothal. They needed answers, and if no one else could get into the demonstration…

“Sure you haven’t changed your mind about that dance?” She asked, with a smirk that masked her unease, as she took his arm, “Might be our last chance.”

“I’m afraid I was born with two left feet,” he said simply to decline her offer. “Are you disinterested in our work?”

“Not at all…” With a shrug, she turned her eyes forward, “Just seems a shame to end the party, is all. It’s been… intriguing. Though I suppose the same will be said for the demonstration.”

“The party, from what I understand, will continue on,” he assured as he led her through the large estate. “This should only take at most an hour. Would you care for any refreshments before we descend?”

“Ah, good. Perhaps I’ll have time after, then, for one more dance.” Her eyes flickered to the floor in pretense of watching, but her hope was to catch sight of one of the other members. With little luck in the sea of masks, she returned her gaze to Altrey, “I wouldn’t say no to glass of wine…”

The Cult of Thieves was hard at work, each member garnering their own methods of information gathering. The newest member, Mies, spoke with the nobility just within the ballroom that looked to be a chatter of gossip as their eyes wandered about in their quiet conversation. Milly down the hall spoke with Lady North before she had been whisked away by Prince Jerian. And Quinn was being guided through the crowd by Lady Adele Liathe’s hand to converge on Lady North.

Lord Altrey pursed his lips as he quietly held disdain towards the polite formalities he forced himself to practice. Cordelia had desired a glass of wine, to which diverted their path to the refreshments. He plucked a glass for her, handing it to her with a slight inclination of his head. Having a crowd and covered skin gave him a bit more apathy towards the assumed member of the Cabal, and so he did not carry the same nervous air as he had the other day.

“We’ll carry on, then,” he said. “Best not to delay. The Cabal, I'm sure, would want to be given a report as soon as possible. And our ravens are available to you even after hours. We are very eager to have our progress known.”

“Eager, indeed.” Taking the glass and pulling a sip from it, careful not to drink too much and appear as anxious as she felt, she forced a smile and nodded, gesturing ahead of them, “Lead the way, then.”

They headed towards the northwestern side of the estate before descending a set of stairs underneath the spiral staircase. It led down into another section of the basement with narrower halls and stonework in arches. Lord Altrey didn't speak much along the way. Though this was not his house, he moved about it with familiarity as they passed through corridors and open spaces. It was a strange level of the house that carried a completely different atmosphere for it carried few windows to bring in natural light.

“Out of curiosity,” he finally said, “why did they only send you?”

“It hardly takes an army to receive an update on progress…” The further they descended, the harder it was for her to keep up appearances. There were far too many variables, to many possible things to go wrong… Pushing up her mask, the fingers of her free hand curled tighter around the ball of her glass, to keep them steady, but little could be done about her pounding heart.

“Afford me some transparency, Lord Altrey. You don’t care for it, do you? All this ceremony… The festivities?”

“Not really,” he admitted. “The women gossip and the men are the least genuine in such a setting. I would find it a waste of time were it not an outlet for networking, to which the foreign guests provide avenues otherwise difficult to procure.”

“Yes, I thought as much. You don’t strike me as the sort to dally in frivolous affairs.” Looking over at him, she studied him for a moment, “...When I came to your home, I got the distinct impression you were afraid. Yet you seem even less the sort to scare easily. Why does the Cabal frighten you, then, Lord Altrey?”

“I believe the power your people hold warrants fear,” he answered simply. “Not just in magic, but in political sway. How much of Edros do you now govern in secret? We’ve heard of your most recent success in Dradmida. Quite impressive considering their forces.”


“You don’t like them, do you. The Cabal.” Her smile was faint, almost coy. If he knew… If she thought it might help, she might even have told him then and there. Told him that she wasn’t Cabal… that they were working to stop what was happening. The trouble was, he was a part of it, whether he liked them or not… He was a part of the puzzle, and he was dangerous.

“...I’m not personally involved in what’s happening in Edros, but I imagine like what’s occurring here, there’s a purpose for it. But I do find myself curious, what your motives are, Lord Altrey.”

“I don't have to like you, and you don't have to like me,” he said flatly. “But our motives are similar, if not the same.”

They rounded a corner and followed the hall another few feet before stopping at a door. Lord Asterly plucked a key from his pocket to unlock the door as he continued. “What are we all fighting for anyway?” he asked rhetorically. “It was the Cabal’s mission that enamoured us from the start. We do hope you all still carry that mission unwaveringly.”

The door opened up to a wide, ovoid room with a mosaic floor in small tiles. There was a chair set up at the center, and a chandelier overhead that dimly lit the space enough to denote the room was at least two stories high with coffered ceilings. He ushered Cordelia into the room with a motion of his hand.

“One chair…” Cordelia noted, as she paused in the space of the doorframe, taking in the rest of the room with curious eyes, “...Surely I’m not watching this alone?”

“I assure you, you will not,” he stated. “The others are being gathered as we speak. Lady North needed to practically be peeled away from the party. If you would, please, have a seat as I go to check on the others. It shouldn't be long.”

Fighting a grimace at the notion of entering, Cordelia nevertheless stepped through the doors and over to the chair. She was a lot of things, but one of them was not stupid… It wasn’t a room built for observation. It was a room to be observed.

Shutting her eyes, she took a steadying breath and slowly, she sank into the seat.

“I hope you don't take this personal,” a voice echoed from above. The door shut behind her with a noticeable click of the lock leaving Cordelia on her own. The lamplight from the chandelier was given more life so as to better illuminate the large space, the light slowly revealing scared looking, haggard people within cages evenly spaced along the curved wall. Above on the second level was a balcony overlooking the room that spanned half the circumference. There were a handful of nobles gathered upstairs as they looked down at Cordelia, Baron Liathe at the center of the group. He was the source of the voice.

“Before the demonstration commences,” Baron Liathe continued, “I would like to give you the opportunity to explain the Cabal’s motives for overtaking Dradmida. As I understand it you were in an agreement with them, much like ours.”

Looking up, her fingers gripping the arms of the chair, the only sense at all of her anxiety over the predicament, Cordelia scanned those in the cages first, before her gaze moved to the Baron, the corner of her lip twitching upwards into a small smirk, “...Ah. That’s his game, then? Where is he? Prince Jerian? Doesn’t he have the courage to ask his own questions?”

The Baron looked to his cohorts and lowly muttered to each other in amusement that ended in laughter. He placed his hands upon the balcony and leaned a bit before responding. “Very well,” he said. “No further questions. I myself enjoy getting straight to the good part, too.”

He turned back to the others as they discussed amongst themselves in a soft chatter, their eyes looking from Cordelia to the doors behind them as more nobles trickled in for the closed event.


 

The wine did nothing to abate her bitterness. She took another sip in vain, eyes and arcane scanning the cacophonous crowd, consciously trying to bury her doubts. Why hadn’t Sothal told them? Why hadn’t she guessed at their Organizer’s true origins? With a sigh, Milly Lecadre, known tonight as Veela, set her goblet of wine down and pushed aside her selfishness. Tonight wasn’t about her, or the Cult, or really, even about the nobility of Faledrin. It was about the Cabal… and the growing influence they held over so many.

Stepping away from the mingling crowds near the dining table, already having helped herself to her fill of assorted pastries and gossip that led nowhere, Milly… mingled. It was odd, hiding in plain sight. She was used to the anonymity her wards gave her, and yet, hidden behind a owl facade, she felt near invisible already. Pointed ears were hidden behind a plumage of white, tan, and cream feathers, accented here and there with gold. Her blue hair had been dyed multiple times. Even now she could smell the faint aroma of coffee and black tea. She’d have to remember to thank Crabby Dale for the recommendation and the ingredients.

Eyeing a woman who’d just left Lady North’s inner circle, Veela strategically placed herself where she could intercept. It was nigh time she started figuring out which Fallenites were involved. With a deep breath, Milly struck forward.

“Magnificent, don’t you think?” Veela asked as she took in the grand room. “Lady North never seems to disappoint, hm?”

The woman eyed Milly over with a frown. “Not at all,” she responded slightly aloof at the sudden stranger. “Lady North knows how to throw a good party. It's been the talk of the district all month.”

“So it has.” Milly replied with a thoughtful smile. Choosing her next words carefully, she watched for any telltale signs of recognition on the unfamiliar woman’s face. “It’s a shame, really, how such a wonderful party could be all for naught.”

The woman huffed a laugh of amusement at Milly’s comment. “All for naught?” she repeated. “Look around you. This is the largest turn out Faledrin’s ever seen.”

“That it is.” Milly replied consolingly, followed by small bow of her head. “And if anything were to go wrong?” Milly probed, searching for any subtle hints that might reveal further information.

“They say the higher one goes, the harder they fall… And with so many in attendance? Tsk. Lady North would have to deal with the social repercussions for years.

The woman’s expression hardened with skepticism as she peered at Milly. “Are you implying something?” she inquired. “What is your name? I don't think we’ve met.”

“Ah, I don't imply, my Lady… Not over something like this.” Milly replied, a sharp smile broadening her lips. “I don't believe we've had the pleasure to meet each other. My name is Veela Barbasso.”

She gave a slight bow before extending a formal Dradmida greeting.

“Hartley Casperion,” the noblewoman introduced with an icy demeanor. She set her fan to her neck, the wind blowing through her veil. “You’re a rather rude one, you know that? Come all the way out from Edros to bad mouth the host. Try to enjoy yourself and exercise a little respect.”

Milly chuckled softly, retaining her carefree demeanor despite her eyes hardening. “Is that what you call it here in the Allied Kingdoms? Ah, well if that’s the case Lady Casperion, point me to the rudest of the lot here, that way I can’t insult anyone else.”

The joke was ill disguised and Milly stood half poised to depart. Yet something stayed her and the half-elf’s gaze lingered on the woman.

Their exchange garnered the attention of the hostess herself, Lady North, her steely gaze settling on Milly as she glided between the two. “The goal of a party is to enjoy yourselves, ladies,” she said in a rolling melody. “If I see you bothering my guests and friends again I’ll have you escorted. Nothing says you have to be here.”

The arrival of Lady North surprised Milly. The hostess had been dancing last she saw, and while her words weren’t hostile there was something in her tone that struck the young half-elf. Had something disturbed the hostess’ plans? Or was she simply on edge? Milly didn't feel comfortable under the woman's gaze. Something felt off.

“Of course, Lady North.” Milly hesitated, poised to turn and yet determined to stay all the same. “I apologize for my rash behavior.”

A smile brightened upon Lady North’s complexion, genuinely relieved to hear an apology and to have tensions lessened. “Go and enjoy yourself and all will be forgiven!” she said. “What room are you staying in this evening? I'll be sure to send confections of your desire.”

Before she could utter another word, Prince Jerian approached Lady North, and her collective crew quickly bowed at his presence.

“Apologies,” he said. “If I may take the Hostess for a moment.”

He held out his hand for her to receive, and it was as if Lady North had become the sun herself with as bright as she lit up. “Of course,” she said taking his hand. “As his majesty commands!”
Collab with @Effervescent
 

Oh Mies, Oh Mys
A collab with @Rowboat and @Effervescent

The Fox turned flecked her eyes downward towards the source of the observation before she and the Deer looked out to Lady North and her dancing. “Hm,” the Fox hummed, her head nodding side to side with the thought. “I don't know about trying hard to network. When you look that good with horns these things just fall in your lap.”

The portly Deer chuckled at that and wiped his hand through the air. “I think most Fallenites want to network with her, anyway,” he said. “One of the most influential nobles in this dump, which I suppose isn't saying much. No offense, Eliza, of course. Such a shame she can't find a suitor. Time is wasting away!”

“She’s turned down every Fallenite,” the Fox stated solemnly. “High hopes. She thinks she’s on par with royalty.”

Mies’ high cheeks creased with a grin and she stopped a passing waiter to snag herself another glass and two for her new friends, offering them each to the gossipy duo. “Maybe that’s why she’s invited dignitaries from all over then, though… I’m sure we can keep an eye on His Highness there and find out just what she’s up to. And, who do I have the pleasure speaking to?” She asked.

The pair giggled as they accepted the offered bubblies. The Fox rolled her eyes at the mention of the prince. “As if Lady North hadn't hired an actor,” she said. “The Crowned Prince doesn't come to parties. Too good for us. But every noble around likes to say they're coming just to get more people to come. I bet he’s one of those actors that plays in Thallas, mostly.”

“Oh, likely so,” the Deer said. “They're very good where I'm from. I'm Count Berilus Noromande of Sulae. Thall, of course. It's a pleasure.”

“I'm Lady Eliza Faraday,” the Fox said. “And you are…?”

Mies turned her head to look at the so-called Prince, eyeing him up and down, “Well, if he is an actor, he is very good. And much to his likeness, I would think.” She shrugged at them, “Lady Delia Langfort, I’m Thall myself. The pleasure is all mine, both of you though I’m afraid I am fairly new to the party scene up here. How do you know each other?” She made a point of looking them squarely in the eyes.

“We met at another gathering,” Berilus explained. “A Harvest party, to be exact. Oh, how long ago?”

“Two years, I think,” Eliza answered with a nod of her head. “Been best friends ever since.”

“Our correspondence has been the creator’s blessing,” Berilus said endearingly. “She and I always have a good ear to the door.”

“I’d love to find dirt on Saleith,” Eliza murmured. “I feel like this is all just her way of flaunting. We’re all having a hard time, you know. Common folk are getting lazy with their work.”

“How dreadful,” Berilus said solemnly before sipping his bubbly.

Mies’ rolled her eyes, looking them over, “Ugh, you are preaching to the choir, sister,” she said, to Eliza. “You know I caught a parlor maid trying on dresses in my boudoir the other day? Seriously!” She gave her glass another small sip and shook her head. She glanced around, her eyes fixing on the middle of the crowd. “If she’s so enamoured with his Royal Highness, why invite us foreign nobility? Is she trying to show off to them? Or him” She queried, glancing back at the pair. She raised both hands and made air quotes around her head at the word ‘him’.

“It's a symbol of status,” Eliza explained with a shrug of one shoulder, her head slightly bobbing. Berilus nodded his head in agreement as his pudgy fingers turned his glass. “No royalty ends up coming to our affairs. We all send out invitations knowing they'll decline. But it adds a bit of excitement.”

“Her sights were never really on any Fallenite,” Berilus added coolly. “That's why she invites foreigners. Oh! Let's play a game! Let's see who she dances with next.”

Oh, really?” Mies said, chortling. She waved a hand in his direction, “I’d bet it’s Lord Kleij,” she says, looking around for the man whose features she knew so well. “Or you, Count Berilus,” she says, winking at him. She drained the last of her champagne.

“I'm afraid she's not quite my type, darling,” Berilus said with an amused giggle. Eliza huffed a laugh of her own as her eyes searched the crowd for faces.

“Lord Kleij wouldn't tickle her fancy either,” she said before taking a sip of her drink. She pointed towards the Lord of Bettleben dressed as a tiger. “No Fallenite seems to really tickle her fancy. At least not long term. The Fallenites she will go after are far less...wrinkly.”

“Chiseled jawline, structured cheeks, a winning smile,” Berilus listed off with a sigh of his own.

Mies chuckled at him, “I’m only ribbing, of course not,” she said, snorting, “I heard that Lord Kleij has a bastard he hides. They all talk about it in Thallas.” She laughed faintly; cruelly. She turned her sweeping dark eyes over them with a little smirk, “What of the nobles of Dradmida? I’d heard a rumor she’d invited some but I thought that might be preposterous.”

“I wouldn't be surprised if he did,” Eliza said with a shrug. “A bastard, of course. Most loose cannons do. Or more like compensating. Not like Bettleben is anything to be proud of.”

“Dradmida and Krie nobility are here,” Berilus confirmed. “I saw her dancing with a Krie nobleman earlier that seemed to catch her eye. Never seen him before.”

“Krei is only a recent venture with Faledrin,” Eliza said. “Both Dradmida and Krei control the Glassy Sea. Well, at least in Northlyn. Faledrin would be unable to export without both Kingdoms.”

“Looks like that Krei nobleman is a good candidate for Lady North,” Berilus said.

Mies wiggled a finger in the corner of one of her eyes where a rogue feather had decided to jab her, “...ach,” she muttered. She glanced at them, laughing, “Both? Really?” She seemed to find this humorous. “Hmm. Maybe I’ll go try to catch the eye of one myself.” She craned her neck to look for any she could identify, “Perhaps one of you would introduce me?”

Eliza giggled and exchanged looks with Berilus before looking back at Mies. “It’s your funeral,” she said, and then scanned the crowd in search. “Where is that man…”

“Hmm, what was he wearing?” Berilus asked as he joined in the search.

“I think it was a fish,” she answered thoughtfully.

“Stars, what a travesty,” he muttered, and then pointed towards the ballroom. “Would that be him with the Cabal lady?”

The man in question was, indeed, dressed as a fish with jeweled scales, his attention to that of Cordelia. It seemed as though he was propositioning her for a dance, and that was enough to make Eliza giggle once again.

“Oh, my goodness,” the noblewoman said. “I hope Lady North sees this.”


That word caught her attention. She turned her head back to Eliza with a wry smirk, “Cabal, huh? I had no idea they were here…” She mused, turning back to watch Cordelia with the man in question. She laughed with Eliza, the same drunken giggle which was abruptly halted as, again, a waiter with flutes of the bubbly swept by. Mies flagged him down, picking up three more in her long feathered fingers and offering them to the pair. “Though, I suppose… Dradmida means cabal now,” she mused at them.

“What in the stars do you mean?” Berilus asked as he plucked another glass from the servant’s tray. Eliza indulged as well, curious into Mies’ implications.

“The Cabal originates from Bastillos,” Eliza pointed out. “But even then they don't run the place. They're just...there. Lurking creepily.”

“They are rather ghastly,” Berilus added. “They do tend to carry that air about them. As if they do run the world.”

Mies chuckled, giving them a look that said, ‘Oh, you didn’t know?’. She gave the bubbly in her hands a small swallow, swirling it in her hand as she watched the man with Cordelia. “I won’t interrupt them, that’d be rude,” she remarked, glancing aside. “What do you know about the Cabal anyway, other than they’re creepy. I mean, she doesn’t look all that terrifying to me.”

“Their eyes are that weird blue color because of their magic or something to that nature,” Berilus explained. “I had one man tell me it was because their bloodline could trace back to the legends of the Starspire unlocked by...oh what was it…. they had a funny little term. Oh! Children of the Gate.”

“Sounds cultish,” Eliza mused. “Imaginations these days are sort of fascinating.”

“The Cabal is still revered in some places of Edros,” Berilus continued. “They've diffused many possible wars. And helped establish the Elssar in Thallas, which have been a blessing.”

“Well they seem to stir up trouble here,” Eliza muttered. “Anytime the Blue Eyes come around everyone gets tense and we get Tainted on the loose.”


Mies leaned towards them squinting, “The pair of you know quite a bit about them,” she teased, grinning. She leaned back, shrugging, “I like myself a little trouble. Maybe I’ll go find one to dance with?” She chuckled.

Berilus chuckled at Mies’s observations into their knowledge base, and he exchanged a knowing and almost endearing glance to his friend. “Eliza and I just have a bit of an unconventional hobby,” he explained.

“We liked to know all there is to know,” Eliza added. “Well, I suppose just the hot tea.”

“Oh, look,” he said as he pointed across the room. The dance had ended, and the Krei Noble had departed from Cordelia’s company. “You could try your hand with that Krei.”
 
Playing with Fire III
a collab between @Effervescent and @Red Thunder

The night was still young for the party goers. Fireworks were not set to be displayed until later on that night before the final hour. The servants in the lower levels scrambled to find more wine in their stocks, for the guests were consuming it at a faster rate than anticipated. Already they were attempting to stretch out what they had with less in a glass per fill. Not many seemed to notice, but those that did began to circulate rumors of the House North lacking in refreshments. It would come to an embarrassment should they prove to run out.

This sparked a small tinge of hope within Lady Adele Liathe flowed through the crowd in search for Quinn specifically. To her, he was the lord of a vineyard, and perhaps could aid them on short notice. It was unlikely, but at least still worth a try. Once she found him, she bowed and rolled right into her proposition.

“Excuse me, my lord,” she began, “but would you happen to know where one could procure wine in bulk at this night?”

“Hm?”

Quinn glanced up, puzzled at the sudden question. His conversation with Cordelia had been instructive, and he still pondered the information. The cup in his hand was still full; he'd been too preoccupied to drink any of it. But as Lady Liathe spoke, he stood.

“My lady.” He dipped his head. “I do, though it would be neither fast nor cheap. What do you need it for?”

Adele pursed her lips thinly at his response, although predicted. “It's just that we may run out before the night is over,” she said quietly, almost in a mutter. But she forced herself to annunciate suggestive of the conditioning nobility put themselves through. “We already had a woman from Dradmida bad mouthing Saleith. Hartley witnessed it all, and the last thing we need is the whole world thinking Faledrin is destitute even within the upper echelon!”

She waved a dismissed hand as if to swat away a fly, her frustrations evident in the flick. “No matter,” she continued. “I would have been indebted to you, but I may see if my father will part with his collection should need arise.”

The conversation was meant to end just at that, but she gave pause and looked back at Quinn thoughtfully. “Are you attending the private demonstration tonight?”

“Not to my knowledge. Being an outsider, though with certain advantages, is restricting; I'm rarely involved in anything labeled as ‘private’.

“Though that should not prevent my own private business. I said the wine would be slow and expensive; I did not say impossible.” Quinn gestured to a servant, ushering him close. “Fetch me a messenger. Quickly.”

The servant rushed off, conducting yet another mindlessly simple task for a nobleman who couldn't be bothered to make the effort himself. Vaguely he wondered as he hurried whether he'd ever be free of this place, and whether his love of painting might ever be put to good use.

Quinn turned back to Adele. “How much do you need, and where shall it be delivered?”

Quinn’s response took Adele somewhat by surprise, her mouth slightly agape before responding with, “Half a dozen cases I think should do. But have them go through the side to the servant’s level. Appearances and all. Lord Bivard was being rather unhelpful with his procurements. You’ll be handsomely compensated. Send the bill to the Liathe estate in my name. But aside from monetary compensation, I would like to repay the debt in a favor. Whatever it may be.”

Half a dozen! Quinn nearly balked; Adele’s request was perhaps reasonable for someone of her prestige, but it would drain entirely his own store. Wine of the quality Serbin Vumahl was known for was remarkably expensive and took months to get. ‘Serbin’ would need to be noticeably absent after this was all over; the stores would need refilling, and that would probably take a good year at the least. It made him sick to his stomach to consider it. Yet he smiled and raised his wine in a small toast.

“You're too gracious, my lady. At the moment, the one favor I find myself desiring is entrance to that ‘private demonstration’ you mentioned. My interest
has rather been piqued. But as I believe you told me earlier you shan't be attending, there's little point in asking it of you. Consider a rain check for now.”

He turned to the returning servant, who lead a lad of perhaps fifteen, dressed in the livery of his station. The servant bowed and indicated the boy.

“Lord Vumahl, this is Andrew. He shall serve you well in your errand.” With another bow, he turned and left, Quinn already shooing him away absentmindedly. Andrew shifted a bit, clearly uneasy to be out among such fine folk at such an important party. The Baladuri bent slightly at the waist, trying to meet the boy’s eyes without sacrificing his dignity.

“Listen, Andrew. You must deliver a message for me. Find Mr. Tifferd at the front office of the Lakeshore Warehouse on Kingfisher Street. Tell him to bring six cases of the twelfth year black to the servant’s entrance here, at the North Estate. Guide them if you must. Now repeat it back.”

“M’lord. Kingfisher Street. Lakeshore Warehouse. Tifferd. Six cases of twelfth year black. North House servant’s entrance.”

That earned the boy a smile.

“Good lad. Godspeed, and Mr. Tifferd may give you reward for it.”

Andrew hurried off, and wetting his lips on the refreshment, Quinn redirected his attention back to Adele.

“There. Should be...half to three-quarter hour, depending on the lad. Sooner, if the promise of extra reward encourages his feet.”

Adele had been watching Quinn command and set orders only furthering the validity of his guise. A smirk set on her lips, thoughtful and more enticed by his actions. “I'm not going,” she reaffirmed, “but that doesn't mean I can't put in a good word for you. After all, even the Hostess would be indebted to you. You've saved her reputation and allowed me to gift a friend relief.”

She walked up to Quinn, hand delicately taking hold of his forearm as she urged him to follow. “Come. I'll introduce you as the savior of the night. She already has a fancy for you.”

Well.

Taking a final sip, Quinn placed the glass on a nearby table as they passed it. He smiled politely, allowing himself to be led as Lady Liathe guided him through the throng. The demonstration; Sothal ought to know. Yet he hadn't a clue as to how to communicate it. Ah, of course. They'd been speaking in private before; sending him a message now might seem odd to Adele if she hadn't seen their earlier meet, yet he could cast reasonable doubt.

But no; he walked a tightrope regarding entrance to this demonstration, and however much Adele might feel herself in his debt, anything to draw suspicion could end badly for him. It nearly had already, and only a brash invitation to dance had apparently saved it. Instead Quinn turned his attention to the lady on his arm.

“A fancy, you say?” He feigned mild surprise touched with amusement. “I confess myself humbled; it seems the nobility of the city rarely finds interest in their country cousins. Or so my interactions this night have shown me, with perhaps one or two exceptions.”

He nodded to Adele pointedly.

Her air became more lighthearted as the relief set in place, and she looked over at Quinn with a playful roll of her eyes. “Don't think too much into it,” she advised. “Saleith has her particulars. But while she fancies you, you still have a way to go. The wine, I'm sure, will garner a fun night indeed!”

As they cut through the crowd, eventually Lady North came into view, her arm delicately linked with Prince Jerian as they too flowed through the crowd. Adele waved to her, urging Quinn forward at a slightly faster pace until they converged. And once before the Prince, she bowed respectfully.

“If I may quickly speak with Lady North, your majesty,” she said.

“Walk with us, Lady Liathe,” he commanded, to which she complied.

“Lord Vumahl has graciously agreed to provide extra wine for tonight,” she said to Lady North, the inflection of her voice insuring her friend understood without giving away before the Prince that they were short of stock.

“How gracious indeed,” Lady North said. “Faledrin is a better place with such a generous heart. I will be sure to have everyone know whose wine they're tasting.”

“Lord Vumahl has proven himself an asset, don't you think?” Adele prompted. Lady North eyed Quinn over thoughtfully as they stopped next to a guarded door. The guardsmen stationed stood stiffly at each side, and another set prevented the crowd from entering the hall just down the way.

“Faledrin rewards its loyal citizens, does it not, your majesty?” Lady North asked as she peered up at her escort.

“With me you'll both be accepted without a doubt,” Prince Jerian assured, but Adele politely bowed as she relinquished Quinn’s arm.

“I thank you, my prince,” she said, “but I must attend to business elsewhere. Lady North, do keep me apprised.”

As she stepped back to leave, she looked over at Quinn sidelong in quiet parting. The doors then opened for the three leading to a balconied ovoid room, the lower level of which was out of sight due to the handful of nobles gathered about in conversation. Baron Liathe was conversing casually with various lords and ladies, their voices halting at the sight of royalty to bow their heads gracefully. The balcony overlooked the wide lower floor where Cordelia sat alone.

“Ah, your majesty!” Baron Liathe said as he motioned out towards the lower level. “We’re ready on your command.”

“We’re certain once the Tainted are released they can't get out?” Prince Jerian asked. “The last thing we need is a massacre, and my duty is to my people.”

“Of course, your majesty,” said Baron Liathe. “As long as we don't panic, they’ll hear the command and revert.”

Prince Jerian found this satisfactory and moved towards the edge of the balcony to look down upon Cordelia, at first quietly. Lady North edged over to Quinn and linked her arm in his. “Bear in mind, darling,” she began in a soft tone, “now that you're here you are one of us. How much Shadow do you know?”

‘Serbin’ had genuflected as the Prince left, and, receiving Lady North’s arm in his, rested his hand on hers, lowering his head and his voice to match her conspiratorial one.

“I confess, Saleith: nothing. Business keeps me rather too busy for such things, and though I've heard of endeavors regarding Shadow, I haven't but a passing idea how such things work.”

A lie with a foundation of truth. Quinn was more familiar than he let on, having witnessed Sothal and Cordelia’s actions in such close proximity for the past decade, yet he knew his knowledge couldn't compare to that of those present. Better by far to play to stupid countryman. Cordelia. She was alone, from what he could tell, and the circumstance made him wary. One Tainted, he'd reckoned on. But ‘They’, Prince Jerian and Baron Liathe had mentioned. That fact made his distinctly uneasy. But he hid his discomfort with a smile, continuing the conversation to distract himself.

“It does seem, however, that I am surrounded by experts in the field. Tainted? Intriguing. The nature of the demonstration was unknown to me, but the reveal has made it worth the surprise.”

And why had Adele turned down the invitation? She had been vague enough during their private conversation, and even to the Prince she'd given the dismissive excuse of ‘business’. It was curious, to say the least, particularly when the woman’s father was so closely involved. And what of Cordelia’s presence? Did Lady North know something about the Cabal and Jerain’s relationship to it that Oracle hadn't known?

“But perhaps, the presence of that woman is of more surprise.” Quinn nodded toward Cordelia. Gamble upon gamble. If someone had seen them speaking in the garden and reported it to Saleith, his question could rouse suspicion. Yet his established reputation of ignorant country bumpkin should save him; if pressed, he could argue that he only learned of her identify after visiting with her. “Forgive me, but I did not expect to see a member of the Cabal here tonight.”

It was fortunate for Quinn that he had not garnered attention when speaking to Cordelia earlier that evening. No one conversing on the balcony gave him much of a second look, likely due to their interest in the sudden presence of royalty among them. Lady North, if she knew at all, did not show it. Or perhaps she didn't seem to care at all. Her eyes flecked down towards Cordelia as she heaved a sigh.

“Politics, Serbin,” she said. “I hate that this event had to take place during my night to begin with. And she is to blame for it, but that is not why she is down there. The Prince just informed me the Cabal has taken Dradmida in bad form.”

“Bad form indeed,” Prince Jerian cut in as he meandered back over to the pair. “I think it is good you are here, Lord Vumahl. We should not have our nobles so segregated, especially in times such as these. This demonstration is to mark an achievement of Faledrin. The men and women surrounding us have carefully crafted an unstoppable force to which we will expand into our army and drive the Cabal from our allies. And so with our uninvited guest we will declare war with the wrath they have created.”

The doors opened for Lord Altrey to enter, the man’s expression fixed to a frown as he adjusted his jacket and bowed to the Prince. “The door is secured and the guards are in place,” he reported.

“Good,” Prince Jerian said. “Come, then, and let's begin.”

“Yes,” Quinn muttered in reply, his voice barely audible among the tromp of shoes and boots and the murmuring of an excited crowd eager for a display. He regarded the Prince and the newcome Lord with the dispassionate interest of their peers, but his mind was on his friend. Worry suddenly filled him for Cordelia, and he cursed himself for only hiding away a single knife within the folds of his clothing. “Let us indeed.”
 

The North Estate

Lynn’s inexperience and nervousness was evidence enough to cause the two guardsmen suspicions. “Oi,” one called out as he took a step towards the pair. The young girl halted and looked behind her at the guards with a questioning look. Tamerlin’s performance did not seem to be of any concern to them and perhaps they found it legitimate.

“We’ll take him from here,” he continued. “You go on back to your duties before the Norths find out.”

Just as Lynn was about to protest, the doors opened behind the guards sending them reeling to meet their newcomers. And while at first they were at the defensive, blades at the ready, they quickly shifted their demeanor stiffly as they took their post more formally. From the stairs two figures descended: the young Lady Betaley North and the Crowned Prince Emrys, better known to Tamerlin as Sothal. Per usual, the man looked drunk and relied on the aid of the noblewoman at his side to guide him down the stairs. The two guardsmen exchanged uncertain glances. Telling both the Crowned Prince and one of the members of the house they were guarding their orders was conflicting.

“Woody!” Sothal called jovially as he noticed the familiar frame of his comrade now dressed as a wood sprite. “You almost drank me under the table, you dog!”

Tamerlin very nearly fell to the floor in relief as the Crown Prince headed for him with Lady Betaley. While in his short employ for the Norths, Betaley had been by far Tam’s… well, favorite was a strong word. Whatever the case, of the North family she was much more forgiving.

“Mon fran!” Tam said in a bastardized version of my friend, common in Edros. No doubt, he would seem a dandy fop, dressed in a ridiculous costume, and he hoped to whatever Divine was out there Sothal would be able to help drag Lynn out of here under the guise of “friend”. “Ness’ time, I’ll give you the water shtuff ‘n I’ll take the real wine. Lemme tellya, this lad ‘ere -- I like ‘im. Oh, oh, ask your North friend if I can have ‘im. Makes fer a good walking shtick.”

As if to accentuate this point, he stumbled forward and grabbed hold of Lynn’s arm for balance.

Betaley clearly did not approve of drunkenness, her young face contorted in an obvious disapproving frown as she watched Tamerlin stumble. She looked over to her Prince who merely laughed as he continued the approach, her hand slipping away from his arm as she kept herself at a distance.

“I'm sure Lady North can accompany both of you out the door,” Sothal said, and turned over to Betaley. Being a prince, it gave her no opportunity to protest. “He’s a guest at the castle tonight and I fear he’s had a bit too much. Your servant can escort him to the carriages and return to his duties.”

“As you command,” she said with a formal bow. Sothal clapped a hand on Tamerlin’s shoulder.

“I've business to attend to here, my friend,” he explained. “Or maybe see a man about a dog. Otherwise I’d accompany you as well. Take care.”

“Oh, many many many thanks, Shweet Prince,” Tam said with a bow that nearly sent him toppling to the floor, though he righted himself quickly.

“My ‘pologies Lady Bet’ly, bu’ it looks like the Schweet Prince is right. I’m a little-- hic -- in-ee-ber-ated. Where’s th’ front door?” Tam giggled as he hung on to Lynn. Sorry, dear girl. I’ll be getting you out of here soon, and then I can end this charade.

Lady Betaley North watched Sothal leave with her frown deepening ever so slightly. It was only until he rounded the corner and disappeared out of sight that she looked over at Tamerlin. “Come along, then,” she said.

“My lady, would you like for us to escort them instead?” one of the guards offered. She shook her head in response.

“This man is an esteemed guest of the royal house,” she said flatly. “I'll escort him. We need the both of you on guard here.”

Lynn moved forward as the noblewoman beckoned them with a flick of her hand. The girl kept her eyes downward as she passed the guards, still questioning the two now in silence as they looked between her and each other. But they made it past the guards and up the stairs to the grassy yard outside. Betaley’s mind was elsewhere, mostly on what was happening in her own home under her nose. She looked behind Tamerlin and Lynn as they exited, Lynn using her free hand to close the doors.

“I got it from here, m’lady,” Lynn said.

“Are you really this drunk?” Betaley whispered as she eyed Tamerlin.

Tam giggled in response as he bounced a bit between Lynn and the lady, who stood a good head or so taller than he.

“Oh, no, no, no, m’lady, I’m ash’ally quite -- hic -- the pishure o’ sobietry,” Tam slurred as he leaned against the lady and wagged a finger before “losing” his balance and toppling forward onto his knees.

“But I had five or six glasses o’ the gold,” Tam laughed, fighting to get up, “on a dare o’ the Prince, ‘n no one says no to the Prince. ‘S rare t’ find a good man like that, and I’d hate t’ disappoint him. I’m… I’m feelin’ dizzy… Madame, you have a twin?…Cuz there are two of you.”

Tam looked to Lynn and giggled, “I d’no if I kin walk the stairs myself into that carriage…”

Lynn shifted Tamerlin’s weight and looked up at Betaley hoping the woman would speak soon rather than stare at the door behind them disappointingly. She simply nodded down the yard to the servant girl as she believed in Tamerlin’s drunkenness. “Most people that far inebriated won't remember much in the morning,” she said to no one in particular. Or perhaps she was talking to Lynn. It wasn't customary for nobles to address their servants directly unless something was entirely wrong. And so when Betaley looked over at Lynn the girl couldn't hide her confusion even under her mask.

“He's had too much to be sure,” Lynn stammered.

“Did you by chance see anything down there when you retrieved this man?” Betaley inquired curiously. “Anything strange at all.”

Strange was an understatement in Lynn’s mind. But she felt she had no position to speak out against the atrocities her family took part in. And for all she knew Betaley could be a part of it all as well. “No, m’lady,” Lynn lied. “I think he was trying to find the loo. All the doors are locked down there though.”

They walked together only until the carriages out front were in view. Betaley turned to address Lynn informally once again in quiet urgency. “Take him to his carriage and see to it he makes it back to the castle,” she said. “I'm afraid I must go. I doubt the man will even remember my face in the morning. Just be sure to return to your duties.”

“Thank you, thank you Lady,” Tam professed as he stumbled towards the carriages with Lynn. Things had gone better than even he could have thought -- even if he’d almost had himself turned into a Tainted. The next step, of course, was to find a hidey-hole to stay with Lynn until he could squirrel her away on the island with Gerald. While he hated to have two Tainted in the same place, there was little chance anyone would know where the island was or for the two to wreak havoc on Windfeld.

“Do you have a carriage waiting for you?” Lynn asked now that they were alone once again. The line of carriages wasn't lengthy, all of which were still manned by their drivers as they waited for their passengers. Most of the guests, it seemed, were either staying among the nobles or at the castle.

“No, but what I have is a bit better,” Tam stated clearly. “I cleared out a patch of garden wall. The stones were loose and I took the time to take them apart and put them together. A few sets of sailor’s clothes are behind that wall. Quickly -- that way, beneath the elm.”

Tam had considered he might have to get out quickly, with possibly a Thief in tow, as well as Lynn, and as such he’d attempted to plan accordingly. He had thought it would look quite a bit foolish that a servant would somehow have his own carriage, but perhaps that would have been convenient...

Looking behind them nervously, Lynn choked back her fearful tears. Music and laughter echoed from behind the lengthy estate. The night was settling in that made the orange glow within the house a vibrant hue in contrast with the dark. “Back that way?” she asked Tamerlin with a crack of her voice. “How are we going to get back that way?”

“Close by, I’ve a boat. We will be sailors -- you’ll be my assistant, we’re on a late night run -- and I will squirrel you off to an island,” Tam stated, before noting the shine in the girl’s eyes. He stopped a moment to take her by the shoulders and look her in the eyes. “I’m terribly sorry I was not able to protect you the last time. Please, keep faith that I can help you. I will do all I can.”

@Doctor Jax

The lighting cast ominous shadows across Jerian’s features as he peered down at Cordelia from the ornate balcony lined in gold accents and floral motifs. He looked like an eyeless statue, still and quiet for a moment as others murmured behind him. And then his voice chimed through melodiously to cease all other noise.

“What is the true nature of your visit, Gema?” Prince Jerian asked.

His voice propelled Cordelia from her thoughts, drove her gaze from the caged servants, upwards to the overlook. Softly, she frowned, drumming her fingers on the arms of the chair, “I thought I was here for a demonstration… but it seems you suspect otherwise. You don't have to do this… I'm not your enemy.”

The Prince scoffed at her response, amusement apparent in a subtle smirk as he leaned forward ever so slightly. “But you are,” he emphasized. “Dradmida, Faledrin’s ally, has been usurped by your people. Against terms of agreement. Faledrin can't let that happen. I'll give you the chance to deny. I know you're itching to do so. The Cabal does love their mind games.”

“Be honest, Jerian… Does it matter what I say? Do you really believe though, whatever my motives are… you will ever be able to stop them? You do this… and mark my words, whatever befalls Faledrin lies on your shoulders.”

“You will address me properly or you will not address me at all,” Jerian responded pointedly. The discussion was over at that, his head turning over to a man across the way who watched the scene near a lever. With a nod of his head, the command was relayed for the lever to be pulled by which opened the cages below. The scared servants looked between each other and Cordelia knowing what was about to happen.

“Run through the Darkness,” one of them whispered. “Just go!”

Staring up at him, her eyes defiant to the last stretches of her self control, Cordelia frowned. For a moment she sat, fixed in place, before calling back up to the overlook, “You are no prince of mine, you coward!”

The cages rattled open after that, and Cordelia’s eyes snapped to the whispering servant. There was no hesitation… she pushed herself up and spinning around the way she came, rushed to the door. It would be locked, she knew… but if someone heard...

“That's amusing,” Prince Jerian said to his nobles. “Can any of you tell me how this is cowardice? Honestly.”

“I think it's just a product of fear, your majesty,” Baron Liathe stated casually.

“She’s just trying to prod into your feelings,” Lady North added. “An attempt to make you as emotional as she.”

“Did you explain to her why we are doing this, Baron?” Jerian asked.

“I did, but it seems she's not quite intelligent,” the man answered. “She didn't seem to get it at all.”

“Well, we’ll have to hope her collective has a better mind,” Jerian said with a small sigh. They ignored her desperate attempt to flee through the locked door, their eyes watching her with apathy as they discussed her plainly. “I'm almost disappointed. I do hope our message comes across otherwise we’ve got a ways to march. Trigger them.”


It was a strange labyrinth of narrow halls under the North Estate. Sothal found it curious, but it was evident by the smell and material it was built likely long before even his father was born. But he felt out of sync with the world as he tried to keep focus. His inebriation was a hinderance even in keeping his step and fell once or twice before hearing the sound of desperation in the form of a locked door struggling against the frame that contained it.

Sothal stumbled to the door and leaned against it as it shuttered with the fear of the one behind it. He could hear Cordelia’s muted voice behind the sturdy wood and threw off his Kimblekree adornments and party mask. Shadow jumping into a room he’d never seen nor could see was a risky maneuver, but the door was locked and he didn't have time to pick it. Not with the fear that suddenly gripped him coiled by what he could hear on the other side.

Shadow gathered within him, locking onto the Darkness to pull him through in an instant, and fell forward a step or two within the oval room. The nobles had their hands raised with Baron Liathe in lead, Shadow Magic channeling from their fingertips into the servants now changing into Tainted. Their bodies contorted as their form was forced into gruesome being, fur sprouting and frame bulking swiftly. His sudden appearance in the room was noted by the nobles, though it did not deter their magic, for it was too late to stop the transformation now. With her free hand Saleith gripped Quinn’s sleeve, her face of shock only for a moment until an entertained smile emerged.

“Oh my,” she said. The nobles stopped casting to watch the scene unfold. “What an exciting party!”

As soon as Sothal saw Cordelia, he rushed towards her, arms wrapping around her as he enveloped them in Shadow where within a blink of the eye they were suddenly in the hallway outside the room. Betaley gasped at their sudden appearance, her hands holding the Kimblekree mask Sothal had discarded only moments earlier.

“Lady Betaley North,” Sothal said as he bent over slightly. “This is Gema. Gema, Lady North.”

He staggered back a bit before speaking again. “Excuse me.”

Sothal shadow jumped back into the room, the Tainted now engaged with each other as they bit and clawed and howled. Baron Liathe looked down upon their achievement as he stood next to his brother. Jerian’s eyes were locked on Sothal in shock, unable to find the will to speak or move even as he shadow jumped up to the balcony and grabbed the Baron, plucking him from his comrades to bring him down into the fray. This was his doing. The Baron had a private army. He would want a legion of Tainted if he could. And it looked as though he would stop at nothing, even endangering innocents. The servants didn't deserve this. Cordelia didn't deserve this. This is what Faledrin had become, and no progress towards the better could be seen.

Growls emitted from the bloody brawl as the four Tainted were ripping each other apart. They hadn't a mind to notice Sothal as he pummeled Baron Liathe’s face with his fists in an unquestioning violent display of anger. The nobles on the balcony cried out in fear and shock as their friend and leader was battered relentlessly by their crowned prince.

“Do something!” Saleith cried out to Jerian. “They’ll kill him!”

By Jerian’s command, one of the guards was snapped out of his dumbfounded stupor to inform the other guards what happened and to head downstairs. “Can't you turn them back?” he asked the other nobles.

“They stay that way until they pass out,” Lord Asterly explained. It was clear despite their power within the Shadow, they had no ability to combat the situation at hand. Sothal was insuring Baron Liathe would be in no condition to leave the room below, and the Tainted would soon discover them in their carnage.

@Elle Joyner @Red Thunder

The party was still lively within the rest of the estate. It was clear the masked nobles hadn't a clue as to what was going on within the other wing closed off by guards, and they didn't seem to question. Even as a collective of guards rushed through to the stairwell most just gave them way and carried on with their merriment.

Nadrid Kalset, the Krei nobleman who had danced with Saleith North and Cordelia earlier, watched the guards thoughtfully as they descended out of view. He did not attend the secret gathering despite the invitation from Lady North during their dance. But as the pot appeared to be stirred, he made his move behind them, removing his fish mask and setting it atop one of the tables before slinking down to the lower levels.

The guards voices echoed down the narrow stone halls that led away from the Servants’ Wing. Men and women of low birth at work on the lower level averted their gazes per custom as they noticed Nadrid rush to follow the guards. They were both confused and scared as they fixed their eyes on the floor. But these servants were not of his current concern. He needed to find where the Tainted were being held prisoner.

@rissa @Rowboat @RiddL

Betaley stared at Cordelia wide eyed as she clasped the Kimblekree mask tightly in her hands. The sounds of shouts and animalistic howls could be heard behind the locked door to the oval room. Her fear left her planted in place and momentarily unable to find her words. And so the young woman’s head just shook ever so slightly. Too much of the strange and what she had denied was coming to fruition.

“We need to help them,” she whispered finally as she walked to the door. Her hand tugged on the locked door. And she continued to tug in vain as she called out for help until finally her mind cleared away enough of the fear to think.

“There are other doors upstairs,” she said to Cordelia, and then reached out to grab her hand. “Come on! We need to save them!”

@Elle Joyner
 
H200qnb.png

no-lightbox
There was, decidedly, no greater fear in the world than facing one’s doom in a viewing arena, surrounded by enemies. Cordelia was strong - stronger than she knew - but as the servants began to twist and contort, a terror coursed through her unlike anything she had known before. Heart hammering, she pushed back, away from the door and found herself colliding with the Crown Prince, himself.

Sothal was swift, and while traveling via Shadow Magic was hardly her preferred method of transportation, she had no complaints when he spirited her away from the room, to safety beyond. He released her, and Cordelia almost begged him not to, but he was gone, too quickly and in his stead, Betaley North stood, looking perplexed and slightly horrified.

Her plea to help came almost unexpectedly, and as she rushed for the door, Cordelia looked up, eyes narrowing slightly, “Help them…?” She whispered, and there was an unbidden quiver to her voice as she spoke, “...Help who?”

An incredulous look crossed Betaley’s features as she released Cordelia’s hand as if it were on fire. “Can you not hear them?” she asked as she pointed to the door. “There are people in there! And a beast!”

Stepping back, Cordelia shook her head, “You… you can’t be that naive. Betaley. They’re responsible for the beasts! All of them! Including the four that they just…” Breathing out, she wrapped her arms around herself, “...You were afraid that your sister was involved in something… Well, you weren’t wrong. They’re abducting servants. Torturing them… Turning them! They’re building an army for the Cabal… and they just tried to kill me!”

“And you think that is justification for a massacre?” she spat back with disgust. “Do what you like, then!”

Her age and defiant nature showed as she waved Cordelia off and started running down the hall. The thunder of hurried footsteps approaching in that very direction grew with the calls of men, likely the guards. Betaley called out to them wildly.

“Over here!” she yelled. “Please hurry!”

Swearing, Cordelia moved after Betaley, but froze at the sound of the footsteps, “Betaley, no! You want to save lives, you cannot let them open that door! Those poor creatures in there, they won’t stop. They can’t… They’ll kill anything in their way, including you!”

“What of the Crowned Prince?” she asked as she spun back to look at Cordelia. “I can't stand idly by even with his...whatever happened! He hasn't come back so he’s in just as much danger as the rest. We could all be tried for treason!”

Frustration, for the moment, at least, seemed to outweigh her sense of fear and with a frown, Cordelia shook her head again, “Emrys is more than capable of handling himself! How do you think he got me out of there? If anyone is going to be tried for treason, it’ll be that lot in that room, so if I were you, I’d think twice about aligning with them! What do you suppose they might need an army of tainted for, after all? And with Emrys’s brother involved, hmm? You’re a smart girl, Betaley… Put it together!”

“I don't know who is in there,” Betaley said as she pointed back to the door for emphasis. “I don't know what they've done, and I sure as hell don't know you! This is my house! And I don't want anyone to die in there tonight. So if you're just going to stand there telling me how I should let those people die in my house, then step out of the way so that my guards can get through!”

A handful of guardsmen rushed around the corner into the hallway. “This way!” one of them called as he pointed towards Betaley and Cordelia.

Reason wouldn’t be had, and there was little point in arguing with the girl, when it was clear she wouldn’t see reason until she had seen the room for herself. The guards were another problem, entirely and Cordelia had no time to think… Her mind felt hazy, and with all that had happened, she couldn’t focus on a solution. He had to drop her in that hall, of all places, “Damn it…” She whispered, as the guards caught sight of the pair of them, “...Sothal, where are you?”

As the guards approached the door, Betaley stepped to the side and flashed Cordelia a warning look. “Hey, that's the woman from inside,” one of the guards pointed out.

“Focus on getting the door-”

Betaley’s command was cut short as two Tainted burst through the door splintering wood and rampaging into the guards as they fought. The noblewoman screamed at the sight and stepped away from the carnage that now crushed the men she had called to aid.

The door slammed back and Cordelia spun towards it, heart beginning to pound again. Without a word, she turned and grabbing Betaley’s arm, she ran, down the hall in the opposite direction of the two beasts. It had escalated, and there was no Sothal in sight to pull them out of it… Not this time.

“Just run!” She cried to the girl, “Keep running!”

Now that she had seen it, all of Betaley’s righteous niavety dissipated to fightened sobs as she followed after Cordelia. She ran for her life, afraid the beasts were hot on their tails ready to devour them at any moment. “This way!” she directed as they took another turn, each hall just wide enough for the two to run side by side. There were other doors leading to other rooms otherwise closed and quiet, and while it could be a viable hideout, Betaley wanted out.

The growls and gnashing grew further away as she led them out the way she came. The two guards at the post leading out to the yard called after them as they rushed past, Betaley throwing open the door and falling onto the grass to catch her breath through her sobbing. The night outside was filled with merry chatter and music echoing from inside the ballroom.

As Betaley collapsed, Cordelia glanced behind them, anxiously. Only when she was absolutely certain they weren't being actively pursued, did she crouch down beside the poor, frightened creature, her irritation forgotten in favor of the fresh horror the girl had just witnessed.

“We have to move, Betaley. Do you think you could figure out a way to stop the masque? To send these people home?”

Betaley’s fingers pushed the mask away from her eyes so that she could wipe away the tears. “There are hundreds of people here,” she said in a wavering tone. “I'm not even the hostess. Parties don't end on command! They end when people decide to leave, and we have over thirty guests staying the night!”

Straightening, holding a hand out to help her to her feet, Cordelia shook her head, “If those Tainted get into the ballroom…” She shouldn't have cared. Not truly. The sorts of people mulling about, dancing and enjoying their evening were the sorts all too willing to end her life on a whim. To torture and turn servants… Dozens… maybe more. She shouldn't have cared, but for every Laithe… every Jerian there was someone like Betaley. Like Sothal.
She had to hope, anyway, that they were not the only two…

“There has to be a way…”

The young noblewoman did not at first take Cordelia’s hand. She wanted to curl up and cry and hope it was all a dream she would wake up from. But the laughter and music from the party unnerved her, and she could not find any comfort to ease her fear. Taking the hand, Betaley hoisted herself up onto her feet and looked over to the gardens where nobles perused for more intimate conversations away from the music and chatter. They had no idea what was happening underground.

“We’re going to die,” she whispered. The two guards emerged from the door hesitantly as they looked between Betaley and Cordelia.

“Everything alright, my lady?” one of them asked.

“You both shouldn't be in this area,” the other said. “Go back to the party and enjoy yourselves.”

“I've no intention of dying, Miss North, and you shouldn't either. This isn't the first Tainted I've come up against, and I'm on a first name basis with the last poor soul. We'll get out… but whether or not we save the rest of that lot is up to you.” Her eyes moved to the guards as they approached and she frowned, “Of course. Our apologies. It's just… would you gentlemen mind? Betaley here just had her poor heart broken, by the Crown Prince of all people and she could do for a bit of privacy. Just a few minutes?”

There was an unspoken understanding in such a scenario, especially after what the two guards had witnessed earlier. The crying woman made them nervous, or rather awkward especially now that they thought it a matter of love. “We’ll head back to our post,” one of them said as he pointed back to the door. The two turned about and walked back into the house, closing the door behind them.

“He was rather disappointing,” Betaley murmured with a sniffle as she regained her composure. “And now he dabbles in Shadow Magic. No offense. It's just… Shadow never really did us all any good. Even now. How can we stop the Tainted from killing people? From killing us?”

M“I'm afraid it's not just a matter of the Tainted… it goes much deeper. But I meant what I said earlier to you, Betaley. Not everyone who uses Shadow Magic does it for harm. And not all of us had a choice in whether or not it was something we learned. You can trust Emrys. I do, with my life.” Shaking her head, she gestured to the doors, “First things first, we either need to clear everyone out… or we need to find the others that were turned and see if we can't stop it from getting much worse.”

“Others?” Betaley repeated. She looked away from the doors thoughtfully, almost lost in dismay. But an idea struck her and she looked back at Cordelia. “Fireworks. I can get everyone out of the house to watch the fireworks from the gardens. Will that be enough?”

“There are more servants somewhere… There has to be. I just don't know where.” As Betaley continued, Cordelia glanced from the ballroom to the skies overhead. A smile felt unusual in the moment, yet Cordelia managed one even despite the circumstances, “Oh, yes. I think that'll do."


 
Playing with Fire IV
the North Masque
a collab between @Effervescent and @Red Thunder

Nothing ever went smoothly. Somehow or another, it always went to shit. And if Sothal- Emrys weren't so damn feckless-!

Of all the things to anticipate happening at this ‘demonstration’, seeing Cordelia in mortal danger had not been one of them. As Jerian and his ilk had triggered the poor Tainted souls below, his hand had moved to the knife hidden in his clothing. This wouldn't do; Cordelia was far more important to the Cult than he, and if a blade to his throats could convince Jerian to leave off this madness, it was worth the slow and torturous death that would surely await him for daring to raise blade to his prince.

But it didn't come to that. Emrys, the foolhardy man, suddenly appeared within the arena, and surrounded by transforming beasts, yanked Oracle through the Shadow and out into safety somewhere. Quinn breathed a sigh of relief, having heard but not really registering Saleith’s comment. The Tainted below were already doomed, and though he felt regret at their fate, at least Cordelia was safe. Smiling, he addressed the woman on his arm.

“My,” he chuckled in only partially feigned shock, “I hadn't an idea that the city nobility was so energetic!”

Yet it was not over. Sothal appeared nearby, on their level this time, took hold of Baron Liathe, and yanked him through the Shadow into the chaos below. Arm outstretched in reaction to his leader’s appearance and anticipated deed, Quinn’s fist closed on empty air where the Crown Prince had just stood. Cursing violently, he pulled himself away from Lady North and peered over the balcony, eyes roving frantically for his goal. There: the drunkard was pummeling the unfortunate Baron with a vehemence that bespoke furious vengeance. Quinn’s ears pricked at the sound of Jerian’s orders, and his mind raced: if they managed to somehow extract Sothal, he'd likely be deemed unfit to rule and subjected to treatment for the insane. And what good would that do? Even if it was in fact a reasonable question, one which he stored away for a safer moment.

But now, the Prince needed to be broken out of his rage. Spying a tapestry that hung on a nearby wall, Quinn ran to it and leapt, yanking his knife from its sheath as he impacted the wall. Blade found cloth, the friction of slicing it sowing his descent enough that the last eight feet or so that he had to drop didn't hurt too badly. Discarding the knife, he sprinted to Sothal, grabbed ahold of his collar, and yanked him off the man below with all the strength his sizeable frame allowed him.

“You fool!” he whispered through clenched teeth as he lifted him up to standing. “You'll be killed or subjected to the asylum, and what good will you be to this country?! She is safe; there's no need for further revenge!”

Baron Liathe sputtered blood from his lips as he turned his head in a daze. The Tainted still did not regard those on the first floor even as Quinn swooped in. His efforts looked in the favor of the Baron to those above as he fearlessly grabbed their Crowned Prince’s collar and yanked him up like a child from a temper tantrum.

And as much as he wished to continue his rampage, resisting slightly to Quinn’s grip as he kept his fists clenched, ready to act. Revenge sounded justified, at least in the moment he acted. The beasts, while still engaged in their bloody display, no longer seemed to carry as much interest in the nobles above as they did before. Their eyes were on the Baron laying on the mosaic floor and Quinn who showed bravery amidst the fray.

“We need to deal with the Tainted,” Sothal grumbled as he jerked away from Quinn’s hold.

“The hell we do. It took practically all of us to manage one; what luck do you think a drunkard and a silver tongue have against this many?” Quinn eyed the Tainted uncertainly, noting their interest. He swallowed, trying to push down the sudden fear that threatened to rise from his stomach. Or maybe it was bile. “I don't particularly care to die at this juncture, and I highly doubt Gema would want you. So get me the hell out of here before we both get ripped to shreds.”

In keeping the beasts in sight, he glanced up at Prince Jerian’s couterie. So much for the good will he'd managed to procure for this alias.

Two of the Tainted broke off from the others, rounding Quinn and Sothal before one tacked the other with such force they broke through the door leading out into the hallway. A shrill cry of horror could be heard in the hall along with shouts of pain. In the commotion, the other beasts turned their heads and howled in response as the fight continued within the hall. Now that their attention had been pulled from each other, Quinn and Sothal were now possible targets.

Concerned for both Quinn’s and Cordelia’s safety, Sothal grabbed his comrade by the arm and pulled him into the Shadow to appear in the narrow hall. Cordelia and Betaley North could be seen rushing down the corridor away from the Tainted as one ripped the other to shreds above splintered wood and wounded guardsmen.

Quinn’s stomach heaved at the shock of the sudden shift in scenery, and he blinked rapidly, trying to focus. The carnage behind the pair was inspiring, and his feet moved with a rapidity from it that Quinn couldn't have inspired himself. Coward, he most certainly- well, perhaps he was a bit. But this went beyond courage; lingering in the vicinity of such veritable tornados of chaos was idiotic. So, just as Emrys had grabbed his arm to flit through the Shadow, Quinn grabbed the Prince’s arm and made a beeline after Cordelia and the woman who accompanied her with a speed to rival Emrys’ own teleportation.

“Now what?” He spat out the question in a panic, unintentionally more aggressive than he intended. “I'd say this party is a bust.”

Sothal momentarily resisted Quinn’s pull in protest of leaving the Tainted behind unattended. The men sent to handle any situation calling for force were in ruin, and the carnage could very well reach those at the party. They were nobles not just of Faledrin, but of their allies in the Allied Kingdoms and Edros. But with Quinn’s insistence he settled his focus, pulling himself from the fit of rage. The question posed needed an immediate answer, one which Sothal struggled to conjure.

“We…” His voice trailed off. This was a mess, and one he did not help to clean before it got out of hand. “We need to get everyone to safety. The Tainted will tire out eventually, but we can't assume it'll be anytime soon.”

Still making tracks, Quinn glanced at Sothal with impatience.

“These are the people who actually made those creatures back there. If not them, their ilk. Why-” He paused, taking a deep breath. Between the jump down and the panicked running, his lack of fitness was catching up to the man. Gathering himself, he continued. “Why should we risk ourselves for them? It's very noble, your Highness, to think of all your people, but you can't make an omelette without breaking eggs. Particularly if those eggs sprout fur and teeth and want to kill the eggs what made them.”

At last, a door seemed to be coming into view, likely the one Cordelia and the other woman and disappeared through after they'd rounded the corner out of sight. A few more steps, and the blasted Tainted would be behind them.

The growls and visceral slashing grew to distant echoes as they quickly approached the hall leading back out to the gardens. Back at their station, the two guards looked almost exasperated by the sight of yet another rushing pair, only registering the prince moments before their approach. Instead of halting Quinn and Sothal, they allow the two to pass, exchanging glances as they relaxed their stance and looked down the hall curiously.

Exiting the basement, Sothal turned to Quinn to finally answer the man’s remarks. “I highly doubt everyone is to blame,” he said as he pointed a bloody finger out towards the distant party. “There were only a handful of nobles standing on that balcony that I saw. You were there. Did I miscount? Tell me, if everyone, every single one here, is to blame for what happened down there, then why weren't they all invited to the demonstration? Don't lose sight of our mission, damnit. We’re saving Faledrin. It means looking at the fucking bigger picture.”

Quinn looked askance at Sothal, one corner of his mouth pulled back. It seemed that the wine still held the man in its inebriating grasp, clouding his judgment and his filter.

“It was a question of logistics, Sothal. Don't think me so heartless as all that.”

The drinking during sensitive missions. The rash actions. The need for instant revenge. His approval for their leader’s methods had already lessened; the behavior he'd witnessed tonight had done it no favors. Perhaps the leadership needed to be challenged. But later, once the nobility were in far safer quarters than they now found themselves. His eyes squinted in contemplation, examining the crowd as options were assessed. Gaining the attention of so many was problematic; most were likely engrossed in either drink, dance, or dialogue. The would need to be herded, as a mule fleeing the switch. Or as a child following a candy.

Adele. She was familiar with the house and with the function of such parties. She would know how to manipulate the crowd. Grabbing Sothal’s arm, he gestured vaguely about the room.

“I will handle saving the crowd; you find the others and get them to safety. Especially Cordelia.

“And keep away from Liathe! You jeopardize the mission again, and we might not live to regret it.”

Quinn dashed off, leaving Sothal no chance to reply as he disappeared into the crowd.
 
  • Nice Execution!
Reactions: Doctor Jax
H200qnb.png

no-lightbox
Quinn walked away, the heat from their words furnaced in the chaos still lingered as Sothal felt himself sobering. Blood still coated his knuckles from the unfortunate Baron who took his drunken beating without time to fight back. Sothal didn't feel sorry for him, but moreso that he wasn't with clarity when he did it. His brother was there and had witnessed not only the magic he performed, but the act. And with so many witnesses of notable status he could very well lose a lot of his sway in political affairs.

He stared at Quinn’s back until he disappeared out of sight, and then he stared at the crowd already outside in a casual meander filled with more private conversations. While they could very well be terrible people, they were not a part of the atrocity carried out by the handful of people that stood on that balcony. Quinn had suggested he find the others and get them to safety, but he was a man that trusted their survivability and couldn't possibly locate them all in time. They never set a meet up the night of. Too risky to be seen going to one location.

Too risky to be seen herding each one as well, especially after his display. Locating them at a distance would suffice, he felt. Something where he could get sight of them on their way out, and he knew at least Tamerlin had left and was likely long gone from the scene. Cordelia, however…

She caught sight of the crown prince as he was turning around, and a familiar feeling churned in Cordelia’s stomach as she moved to catch up to him, “Are you completely out of your mind?” She hissed, gaslight blue meeting his dark gaze with a fury, “What were you thinking???”

Her reaction contorted his face into annoyance, lips pursing in a frown as he brushed it off with a shake of her head. “I don't have time for this,” he said to Cordelia, and turned back to walk towards the crowd near the gardens.

As he turned, her arm snapped out and she caught hold of him, “You just exposed yourself to every person in this damnable kingdom we're fighting to take down, Sothal! Make time!”

In a swift motion, Sothal spun back to face Cordelia, arm motioning back towards the party goers. “There are more important matters at hand,” he said. “Let’s focus on them first and then later you can reprimand me for anything you'd like.”

Frowning, she shook her head, “Betaley is seeing to the fireworks. We figured it would be sufficient to get everyone out safely, without causing alarm.” Stepping closer, she tightened her grip on his arm, “I'm not angry with you, Sothal. I just don't understand why you... “

Breathing out, she stepped back and relinquished her grasp, but only for a split second before her fingers entombed his again, bringing his hand close, staring transfixed at his knuckles, “What did you…”

Sothal slipped his hand away from hers. As his inebriation waned, so too did the numbness that brought forth a muted ache in his hands from the assault. “We can help Betaley, then,” he suggested to change the subject. “Quinn went in to gather people as well. Get them out of the house at least.”

“He didn't stay? Damn… I was hoping at least one of us might hold our cover through this mess. Come on…” She gestured, back the way she had come, “She went this way. And Sothal? You and I are not done discussing this…”

To expect otherwise would be to not know one of his closest friends. Sothal had known Cordelia for nearly eight years, and her stubbornness was not easy to overlook or hide from. He said nothing, following after her as they headed to the northern end of the estate. Betaley was in the yard ahead speaking with the estate footmen in charge of the fireworks. While they could not hear them at a distance, they were clearly in a rush to finish the set up as she barked commands. Their approach caught her attention, and so she walked up to meet them halfway.

“They will be ready in a few minutes,” she informed as she bowed respectfully to Sothal. “Their cue is the music from the ensemble currently inside. I need to get them out of the ballroom, which will more than likely have the dancers leave as well. You don't think you could…”

She eyed Sothal over hesitantly as she contemplated the request. Her fingers fiddled with the lace on her sleeves until she noticed the blood on his hands and froze momentarily. She shot Cordelia a thoughtful look and then smiled at the two. “A lot on my mind, it seems,” she said. “If you will excuse me, your majesty, I need to attend to those things.”

Frowning, Cordelia watched her go, shaking her head. There was no point in making note of the girl's behavior. Cordelia could best assume it was apprehension brought on by the revelation that the revered future king wasn't all Betaley had thought he might be. It wasn't necessarily a benefit to Sothal politically, but it was damage they could repair later… or so Cordelia hoped.

“I suppose we wait, then?”

Waiting would only give Cordelia the window she would want to broach the subject Sothal wanted to avoid. But he felt fatigued both from the drink and from his physical endeavors, and his mind was sluggish to come up with another task they could do to help the situation. Quinn and Betaley should be able to herd everyone to the back gardens without issue, assuming the Tainted did not breach to the main level.

“I suppose so,” he muttered.

Shifting, Cordelia turned to him, rubbing her arms as she considered what next to say, carefully. When she spoke, there was a sober quality to her voice, “I’m sorry. You… you shouldn’t need to keep rescuing me from my mistakes. I thought… I thought I had it sorted. I thought I had it under control. But I underestimated your brother. I never thought he would…” Jaw quivering, she clenched her teeth and breathing deep, she looked away, “...Every time it seems like we have even the slightest upperhand, we end up ten steps back from where we were. And this time, there’s no one but me to blame. I should have known. I should have seen it… Hell, I could have, if I wasn’t so damned afraid…”

Sothal looked from Cordelia to the footmen securing fireworks in the grass. “I think you're being too hard on yourself,” he said flatly. “It's not entirely your fault, anyway. This mission was rushed. We didn't have enough information to correctly assess what was going to happen, and so we learn from this. Next time we do it better.”

“Next time…” Pinching the bridge of her nose, Cordelia sighed, “Hard to think what might come after this. I thought I needed to lay low before, but now?” Turning back to Sothal, her brows knit as she studied him, before her gaze flickered to his hands, “...What happened?”

“Lost focus,” he responded curtly. “Jerian wasn't casting any magic and hasn't really shown any signs of practice. I'm thinking it's likely the nobles, but I can't imagine why the Cabal would go directly to them and not involve the King. It seems out of their style. Usually they're very diplomatic.”

“Do you think it has something to do with what’s happening with your sister? From the sounds of it, Alyse and her family were blindsided. And Jerian seemed to think it might happen here. It doesn’t excuse his behavior, but if he thought I was Cabal, at least I understand it… What I don’t understand is where the Cabal even fits in, anymore. One Tainted is dangerous enough, but they’ve got at least six on hand, and I doubt that’s all. What would they even need the Cabal for?”

Reaching out, tentatively, then with more authority, she took his hand and brought it up, brushing a thumb gingerly over the knuckle, “...Wasn’t Jerian, was it? Sothal, you can’t diminish his risk, just because he doesn’t use Shadow Magic. You and I both know what he’s capable of…”

He retracted his hand away from hers and crossed his arms over his chest to hide them away. “The Cabal has money,” he answered as he glossed over her prodding. “And they have sway and influence and connections. Which is why I don't understand why they didn't come to the king. Or maybe they did while I wasn't there. I don't know I'll need to investigate. Hopefully someone else got more insight than speculation. Quinn might have an in by the looks of it.”

“You think it’s worth the risk? Putting Quinn in that position? If they even half suspect…” It wasn’t, however, as if they had any other options, short of her removing memories from the members in the oval room, and even if she wasn’t weakening to the Shadow sickness, there was no chance she’d get to everyone in time…


Still…

“If I could read even just one of them… Maybe we could get answers. Fill in some holes.”

Sothal began to condone the thought and remind Cordelia of what happened days before. But there was a fine line they had to walk with Shadow Magic, and as much as it would eventually kill her to continue its use, cutting it from her life entirely would have the same effect on her.

“Which one do you think will have the most answers?” he asked.

“...Might be less a question of who has the most answers, than it is who might be more susceptible. If you think Jerian’s without magic… I’d wager a guess he’ll have a harder time fighting it. Do you think you could get him to meet you?”

“Your only shot might be tonight,” he said thoughtfully. “Maybe not here. I'm not sure, but I am sure he’ll likely seek me out. But meeting outside the castle will look odd. How do you feel about being a handmaiden for a while?”

Smiling dryly, Cordelia shrugged, “...Not as if I don’t clean up after you lot enough. Besides, it’s a step up from where I actually come from.” The smile faded, however, and she considered him for a moment, “You’re sure? I know it’s important we get answers, but he is still… He’s your brother…?”

“No, I'm not sure,” he said as he looked over at her. “I can arrange this but you are the one that needs to be sure. It's not my decision. We both know him well enough to know what he is capable of, but ultimately I am not the one casting the spell. If you're not up for it, we can find another way.”

“Not sure there’s much other choice. We need to know what we’re up against. Whatever it takes. It’s not about us, anyway. Right? That’s what we’ve always believed… This isn’t about you or me, or any of us.” Nodding, she glanced to him again, “...I’m up for it.”

His head nodded shallowly in recognition of her decision, and for a moment he did not speak as he mulled over the list of things he would need to coordinate in order to get Cordelia into such a position without being noticed as different. There were luckily a few servants designed to be flies on the wall for a little extra income under the table with loyalties to the Cult without even fully knowing it.

“I'll meet with Srevace as soon as we are done here,” he said. “He’ll get you where you need to be and make sure the way is clear for you to come through the tunnels. Do you have an exit plan?”

With a soft smirk, Cordelia shrugged, “...I remember the layout well enough from the last time I was there, and if need be, I can get lost in the crowd. So long as all goes well when I read him. If I have any issues like last time though…” The smirk evaporated as she considered the options, “I suppose we’ll just have to hope it doesn’t?”

“You need to plan even for that,” Sothal suggested. “Walk me through how you would handle something like that.”

“...I… I don’t know.” Rubbing her arm, she fell quiet for a moment, in contemplation, “I’ve never had to deal with it before. But I won’t give you up… or the Cult, if that’s your concern?”

There was evident confusion across Sothal’s expression as he glanced over to her. “That is not my concern,” he stated. “That's not even the point of making it out of there. The point is making it out alive. Your life, Cordelia. Walk me through how you would handle that scenario. You need to be thinking about these things.”

Her own expression shifted at his words, as she watched him, unblinking, “...Oh.”

It wasn’t like him to be so definitive… and the honesty of that moment threw her. For several seconds, she was quiet, thinking it through, before she cleared her throat, “Right. I… I suppose if I have to, I can push the magic further. I don’t like to do it, but I was taught how to manipulate the darkness. They can’t catch me, if they can’t see me. That… or I engineer a false memory of how Jerian even knows me.” A small smile formed, and she looked to Sothal again, sidelong, “...That, or I know a prince who’s pretty gifted in making quick exits.”

“You can't always rely on me,” Sothal said with a shake of his head. “Tonight we got lucky. But I can't always…” His voice trailed off only momentarily in a guarded thought. “What happens if you aren't in a good position to cast another spell? Have you considered a route that does not involve magic to get out?”

Brow raised, Cordelia frowned, “I’ve got a knife. I don’t mean to use it if I don’t have to… but I will, if it’s necessary. Sothal, I… I know you want me to consider all the avenues, and I am, but I think you need to consider them, too. I’ve got no intention of making an easy target of myself, but if I can’t get out, I won’t put anyone at risk for my sake. That’s a scenario, too… that I don’t get out, at all.”

Sothal turned away from the footmen and looked at Cordelia almost tired. The night was folding in, it seemed, and he felt far too sober to be at ease. “That's not the point of the walk through,” he said with a sigh. “Just nevermind then. I’ll have to keep tabs on you so that I can be near should you need it. Everyone else has other tasks, if I'm remembering correctly.”

His body tensed with a sudden jolt of realization, and he cursed under his breath. “Damnit,” he muttered as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Damnit.” He looked behind him, then to the estate, and then to Cordelia. “We’re pointless standing here. There's another matter we can address in the meantime that should be addressed as soon as possible. I'll explain on the way. Come on.”


 
What Shall We Do With A Drunken Sailor?



He had it all figured out like he’d done it before. It wasn't uncommon for Faledrin’s common folk to develop various methods to survive in such an unforgiving world. But Tamerlin’s plan sounded wild to Lynn, her arm still wrapped around him as support in his facade while allowing him to subtly direct the way. Putting one foot in front of the other felt like she was trudging through mud that threatened to suck her in place.

“I don't doubt your protection, Mr. Timothy,” she said. “When you're around it's good. I’m safe, I feel. Just...when you leave is all. I don't know how they found me. But it's like they can track us.”

“I’ve no doubt about it, and that is why I do not plan on leaving you -- at least, alone, that is. I have -- friends. In low places,” Tam stated haltingly, wondering how much to reveal. “We know quite a bit of what the Norths and their ilk have been doing, and we… we are doing our best to ensure it happens to no one else.”

He glanced about as he headed towards the garden wall. Quietly, he glanced over his shoulder to the North estate with disdain. He would be glad to have been rid of the place. He briefly considered what the others were doing -- but no. He had a job to do. They could take care of themselves. Material witnesses were important, and Lynn was as material a witness as it got.

He arrived at the garden wall and leaned against it as if he were sick, his free hand rummaging for the rocks he’d loosened. He’d gotten lucky -- the hole was behind a rather large elm, obscuring the guards’ vision. It was a fairly small hole, unfortunately, and he gestured for Lynn to go first.

“It goes out to the other side. I’m sorry, but it’s small,” Tam apologized. “On the other side is a set of clothes. Put them on over what you have -- and we will go on from here to Dockside.”

Lynn trusted Tam, and without protest she shimmied through the hole and tumbled out onto the grass on the other side. The clothes were tucked within the bushes and took some feeling about in the dark, but she soon found them and dressed, grateful to be rid of the itchy mask and into something a little more her fashion.

The winds from the sea side wafted a salty air, and the crash of waves against the walls of Windfeld could even be heard just faintly from where they stood.

“What happens if we get caught?” she asked. “What happens if they find where you're taking me? What of my brother?”

“Your brother will remain safe, I assure you. He will be well looked after, as he knows where to go,” Tam stated, glad to be in some thicker clothes. “If we get caught, I am afraid there may be a fight on our hands, if they are aware of your… malediction. If they are guards, I can easily bluff our way out. Papers, they speak.”

Tamerlin had ensured they would be very well-prepared for a routine stop, going so far as to get a forger to sign a series of travel papers, with a very convincing golden seal stamped into it. These he waved as a sheaf from the pocket of his pants, hurriedly gesturing them towards a servants’ path for goods hauled up to the estate straight from the seaside.

“I am sorry that I must throw so many histories at you, but like I said, if we are stopped, you are my assistant and we were delivering a late night shipment to the estate -- wine, given just how much they were sucking down their gullets while I was there,” Tamerlin stated drily. “In the case they are not Regulars, but North’s hounds…”

With some gravity, Tam fished around in his pocket to produce a folding knife, a not-uncommon implement among fishermen and sailors.

“Fight. Tooth and nail. At least, if you get to sea, you may be able to run. As far as I know, they cannot find you over water. Too risky without enough shadows,” he stated, handing the knife to her.

The girl’s fingers wrapped around the folding knife in a gentle hold, hesitant and thoughtful as the magnitude of the situation had yet to fully be realized in her mind. To her, it seemed even stranger to be in a predicament of needing to use such a thing moreso than her fate of becoming a Tainted. The lap of the sea against the walls of Windfeld were not far off, and perhaps it was a short enough distance for the two to make it without a hitch.

in collaboration with @Effervescent
 
Last edited:
Playing with Fire IV
the North Masque
a collab by @Effervescent and @Red Thunder

Quinn pushed through the crowd, eyes frantically roving. Whatever the hell the Cult of Thieves had actually expected to find or expose at the North Masque, finding Sothal’s younger brother seeking to weaponize a veritable pack of Tainted for use against any and all Fallenite enemies was rather far from normal. It perhaps explained a great number of things, yet the questions it inspired outnumbered them by- well, by as much as he now felt outnumbered by the crowd of party goers. He could make a scene and demand in some form or fashion that each there sought entertainment elsewhere, but few indeed were likely to listen to a lowly and little known country noble, even if he'd managed to garner Jerian’s praise for his wine. Where the hell was Adele?

Adele. Damn. It was her father that Sothal had laid into so mercilessly. Quinn paused in his great strides, turning to and fro for the Baron’s daughter with a look of frustrated impatience. Not that he blamed Sothal for doing so; that damnable man had earned every blow and more. Had the timing not been so inopportune, the Baladuri might have joined in.

But there was a distinctly more pressing matter. In his mind, Quinn imagined that he could hear the Tainted making their way to the main hall, decimating any resistance as they went. Damn. Where the hell was Adele?

The music in the ballroom came to a close, and the musicians did not seem to continue on into the next song. A crier roved through each room calling out to the guests, “The fireworks display will begin in ten minutes! Please proceed to the gardens for your enjoyment!”

Guests excitedly began their trek out of the mansion, albeit at a meandering pace as they continued their conversations along the way. There were hundreds of people completely unaware of what had transpired not but down the hall, and there were some not entirely interested in the fireworks. Had the crowd not shifted, Adele likely would have required a little more scavenging.

The noblewoman was walking alone coming from the foyer towards the conservatory rather than rounding the interior greenhouse for the back entrances to the gardens. There were a few other nobles who followed her through, though they all had the intent of rejoining the rest of the mass. Adele slowed as she looked down the hall where the secret gathering had taken place. There were still guards at their posts and the hall was still dark to signify that it was off limits.

Fireworks, eh? Quinn considered the convenience of the announcement against the urgency of his task. Such things didn't happen coincidentally; Cordelia must have worked her womanly wiles. That, or some other party who had been present below was just as eager to avoid carnage as the Thieves were. He allowed himself a breath of a moment, appreciating that his task was no longer so necessary.

Or perhaps it was. Some lingered within, ignoring the flow of guests and clearly uninterested or too distracted. Some other carrot would have to lure these asses out, lest the furry sticks of the Tainted come swinging through their midst.

Quinn spied Adele some yards away, heading up if not exactly directly leading a small crowd of party goers separate from the main throng. With a small hustle, he gained on her until he was close then dropped his speed to a brisk walk. He blessed his long legs; his giant stride allowed him to come beside her in a few steps.

“Hello,” ‘Serbin’ chimed, placing the mask back into his tone. Hands clasped behind his back, he spread a slightly weary smile across his face, only partially feigned, as his eyes lit on her own cheerfully. “It's me. I was wondering what had garnered such interest until someone mentioned fireworks. Are you going?”

Adele turned her head, eyeing Quinn over briefly to assess the sudden presence. She seemed distracted, her head shaking somewhat as she looked back over to the guarded hall. “Saleith should be out by now,” she said. “The fireworks were her idea. Imported from Krei. I don't understand why she would call for it early when she isn't even out to watch.”

“Lady North has her reasons, no doubt. She does not seem the kind readily share them, though what she makes up for in mystery, she makes up for in spectacle. They will surely be magnificent.” He looked off, eyeing the conservatory toward which his companion appeared bound with curiosity. Sniffing in self disdain, he shrugged. “Though there is little need for me, a guest of little social status, to tell you, her friend, these things. I do believe, however, that she may likely still be engaged with her earlier business.”

“That's the concerning part, Lord Vumahl,” Adele muttered. She turned to watch the masses meander out the hall to the back of the house, her arms crossed. “You don't know her like I do. She wouldn't miss this.”

“That- that is concerning.”

Quinn had turned when she'd stopped, his own pace carrying him a step past her before he'd realized what she'd done. He stood now behind her, just beyond her right shoulder. Thankfully out of view, for his face threw off the reins of restraint that his act necessitated in favor of straight forward, unmitigated conflict. For all their admirable qualities, both these women were of the nobility, and they deserved the worry and pain that they brought upon themselves. Saleith at the least did, her involvement, capitulation, and apparent enjoyment of the events below damning her beyond redemption. Yet she was tied intrinsically with the goings on here, as the hostess if for no other reason, and she owed him enough of a favor for saving face at the ball with his wine that he could likely obtain some form of information from her.

Dammit.

“Your pardon, m’lord.” Quinn looked down at the servant girl who now stood at his elbow. She curtsied, somewhat awkwardly. “They said t’ let yer lordship know that th’ wine had arrived, per your instruction.”

Ah, the wine. Nodding, he dismissed her with a wave.

“Have them bring it about to the viewing lawn in preparation for the fireworks.” The girl darted off after dropping another curtsy, and Quinn stepped up to level with Adele. “Pardon me, Lady Laithe. I must advertise the arrival. And then I must seek out Lady North. You're right; her absence is odd. Moreover, I’d not have her miss out on the very wine she accepted.”

“Oh, bless your wine!” Lady Liathe said as she grasped Quinn’s arm and gave it a small squeeze. “They’ll all be wasted before the night is through, and all the better for it! Go tend to the advertisements, Lord Vumahl, I'll see if I can go and grab Saleith for the show! She will be most pleased.”

“My lady, on second thought, it would be better if we switched tasks. Your name carries more weight than mine, which will assist in spreading the word. Additionally, it will help mask the North’s house deficiency regarding their wine stores if I remain separate from it entirely. Besides, of the two of us, I saw Lady North last, which perhaps gives me a better idea of where to look.”

The threat of Tainted was still very real, but he was better equipped to avoid and if need be escape them than she. Had Quinn been of a more introspective mind, the silent reasoning may have surprised him. Was he actively seeking the safety of a noble? Perhaps it helped that she was an attractive one. He smiled and patted her hand, giving it a small squeeze before removing it from his arm in preparation to leave.

“I apologize for adopting an authoritative air, Adele, particularly as the country stranger here, but I believe this will be for the best.”

With a wave of her hand, Adele dismissed the apology entirely. “You make a clever point,” she noted. “Tell her to meet me out by the awning!”

The switch worked smoothly, and Lady Adele Liathe was none the wiser. She took to her task without question or persistence, trusting that the man she knew as Lord Serbin Vumahl would retrieve her best friend for the fireworks and that she was better suited for advertising the recently acquired refreshments.

The awning, Quinn thought derisively as she turned away. Right. If she's even still alive.

Turning, jaw set and eyes steeled, he set off into the house, following the path that Saleith had led him down before, hoping to encounter neither guard nor monster. And praying that the effort and the risk was worth the knowledge she might provide about the whole affair.
 
  • Nice Execution!
Reactions: Doctor Jax
A Curious Little Cat
Paranoia ate away at all reasonable thought. Milly Lecadre, hidden beneath a creamy gold owl mask, fled from the party. At first she thought it was her wine consumption, unsettling her stomach and twisting it into knots. But after a few moments she succumbed and retreated into a quiet hall. Glancing around, she took a moment to catch her breath and her frantic thoughts.

Where is everyone? Sothal? Oracle? What of Tam and Mies? Quinn?

Milly looked down both ends of the hallway, half expecting the pair to stroll right into sight. But three heartbeats later she knew they wouldn't and with her curiosity delving deeper into paranoia, Milly unbuckled her heeled shoes and strolled down the hallway. Something was wrong and she could feel it.

Strolling past a pair of servants, Milly continued her trek through the halls. It wasn't long before the hallways became older, darker, more mysterious. Her bare feet carried her swiftly down into the labyrinth of the North Estate. Rounding a corner, Milly caught sight of a man, the Krei noble she saw earlier. She might have turned round and gotten away before he noticed her, but one of the leather straps slipped from her grasp and her heeled shoe fell with a clattering thud.

The clatter echoed down the narrow hall alerting the nobleman to the presence of another. His head turned slightly, though he did not look to see who it was behind him before rushing off down the hall, around a corner and out of sight. It seemed he did not wish to be seen either.

The decision to run after him wasn’t a decision that took long to make. Her instincts sang and with nimble and silent feet, Milly took after the Krei noble that didn’t seem keen on being caught. It took a few minutes to catch up, shoes and plumage swaying dangerously with her momentum. It was a risk, to be sure, chasing after a stranger in a noble estate where she was hiding both identity and heritage… But she was a member of the Cult of Thieves and that was her trade.

“Wait!” Milly shouted, rounding another corner. “Hey!”

Immediately around the corner awaited the Krei, grabbing Milly by the arm and pulling her to the wall to try and pin the woman in place. Nadrid stared at the half-elf with severity and stillness in his stance, almost as if he were reading Milly’s story and thoughts like a book. To her left would echo the distant sounds of shouts and animalistic growls.

“State your business!” he hissed.

“To help! “ Milly cried out, her tone stuck between surprise and indignation at being grabbed in such a manner.

For a moment she contemplated whether or not she should fight - she was small, agile, fast… and if she could conjure an invisibility ward quick enough…

“I can help you.”

His eyes narrowed at her offer, skepticism evident as he stared at her with severity. His hold on her did not give. “And what do you wish to help me with?” he pressed.

She swallowed, “With whatever you need…” And then gambling even further, “There are people here who need our help, isn’t there…?”

Another growl faintly echoed from the hall far and out of sight. It was enough to know something wicked was amiss. Nadrid stepped back, releasing his hold on Milly, though kept his glare. “This is no place for the likes of you,” he said. “Go back to the party.”

“How would you know?” Milly retorted haughtily. Her brows furrowed in annoyance but she tore her gaze away to glare down the hallway. Something felt off… and that sound, what was it? “Besides, the party was preposterous.”

The Krei noble looked down the hallway he had intended to go with frustration, and then turned away to head back to the party. “I just lost my way, is all,” he said to Milly. “It seems I've had too much to drink. Have a good evening.”

Milly snorted under her breath and took a few steps forward, following after the Krei noble who intrigued her so greatly. “I’ve been around drunks my entire life, sir. You are neither lost nor drunk. I’d ask what you’re looking for, but it’s obvious you won’t say-- Did you hear that?”

Nadrid looked down the hall at the obvious sounds of something very amiss. His gaze lingered down the hall as growls echoed ever closer. "Enjoy your curiosity, little cat," Nadrid said as he turned away, and began his course back to the stairwell leading to the party.

"Ugh..."

Milly dropped her heeled shoes with frustration and raised the mask ever so slightly to rub her eyes. After a deep breath, frustration and self pity falling prey to curiosity and duty, Milly focused on her magic. On what she should have done earlier, before arriving at the masque.

Wrists and fingers danced in the air with fluidity and grace. A thousand times over had they helped her draw this ward, and they moved without any hesitancy or doubt. And when the spell was cast and her fingers came apart, she felt a new surge of confidence and followed after Nadrid with silent feet.

Completely oblivious to Milly now invisible, Nadrid meandered through the ground level of the North Estate. There were significantly less partygoers within, and as the booming of fireworks began outside, even the stragglers moved to the outdoors. The Krei noble lingered, roving the rooms above where he had been traversing down in the levels below. It seemed as though he were looking for secret passages, often brushing his fingers against the walls or pulling back tapestries when he thought no one was looking.

Eventually, he doubled back, electing to take the initial and more direct route down the stairs and beyond the Servant's Hall. He was cautious again, but moreso looking behind him to insure someone like Milly wasn't following behind him again. The growls down the hall still echoed beyond what Nadrid could see, and before he got too close he began checking the doors to rooms to see if they were locked. If they weren't, he would open them carefully to peer inside, eventually closing them to move on. Those that were locked he would pick open, eyes glancing down the hall both ways as he felt through the mechanisms within the keyhole.

Curiosity was a fickle thing and the longer Milly traversed the North Estate, the more curious she became. It was clear the Krei was searching for something, but what?

When the man doubled back downstairs, Milly kept as close as she dared, unwilling to leave until she saw what Nadrid sought after so diligently.

The growls echoed down the hall as Nadrid quickly searched behind each door. He didn't seem keen on traversing closer and closer to the grueling chaos, yet he continued on, head constantly glancing down the hall and pace quickening. Eventually, he came upon a door that lead into a room as pitch black as the void, and he paused, horror struck in his eyes before entering.

His cautious, paranoid behavior was infectious and not for the first time did Milly halt herself and glance behind her. Usually she'd be bored by now, sneaking around and breaking into rooms were an everyday affair, but something about the Krei intrigued her. Ensnared something within her that urged every step forward, assured the risk would be worth the reward...

But there was a gnawing feeling in her stomach that put her on edge. Stopping around a corner, Milly inhaled deeply, sparing precious moments to charge the spell lest the illusion drop.

When she was satisfied, she padded quickly on soft feet to catch up to Nadrid and his swift search of the halls. Treading more slowly, Milly drew closer than she had before as the foreigner drew open a door that led into the depths of darkness. Craning her neck and squinting, Milly could just see the outline of cages, stacked upon each other, containing what looked like... people...

A collaboration with @Effervescent
 
Playing with Fire V
the North Masque
a collaboration between @Effervescent and @Red Thunder

There was a disquiet that sat neatly and persistently in the Baladuri’s hedonistic heart as he followed the path down which Lady North had led him not an hour ago. And this in stark contrast to the measured laughter and stretched smiles of the nobles who’d received word of fireworks and fresh wine. He felt, perhaps more even than while on the floor with them, vulnerable to the Tainted, prey to the stalking predator. More than once he bumped against some partygoer unintentionally and flinched mightily, only though quickly composing himself once they began spouting apologies or criticisms in his direction. He had wondered whether he was a coward; the sure answer still eluded him. One way or another, Quinn certainly felt like one.

He came to the door of the hall in which the demonstration had occurred with little confrontation. His hand raised to grasp the handle, but he stopped. What if Jerian and his ilk were still within? What if they were discussing further information useful to the Thieves? Better to give a listen. If caught, he could always claim some falsehood. Carefully, Quinn placed an ear to the door.

Sure enough, voices carried within along with sobs. Their voices were at first lowered in heated debate, conscious of their voices carrying until things began to get heated and voices began to crescendo. With his ear to the door he would be able to make out the louder portions of the argument.

“You should have had that ready before we started!”

“What do we even do if Prince Emrys is dead out there?”

“We give the truth, but not too much into detail.”

“Is he breathing, David?”

“This is not my fault, Saleith!”

“How am I supposed to explain this to Adele?”

So. The party yet lingered, upset by the consequence of their actions within. Last he’d been seen, Quinn had yanked their crown prince off the Baron, a deed that could very well earn him significant prison time if he were judged as having overstepped his bounds. Yet perhaps it wouldn’t be so. Those inside certainly sounded as though they were more concerned with the Baron’s health than with finding the individual who had assaulted their Prince. Ah well; he could always run for it. He inhaled and exhaled rapidly, quickening his breath to give credence to a lie. If in fact all he was omitting was his detour.

“My lords! My ladies!” Quinn yanked open the door, eyes wild with panic. As he crossed the threshold, he dropped to his knees, faking exhaustion. “The- the Tainted. They- the Prince-“

He maintained his ruse, focusing on his labored breathing and allowing it to cut apart his phrases as his hands rested on his knees.

The lords and ladies spun about at Quinn’s sudden interest, their eyes wide and mouths agape in fear of what could come for them. But seeing Quinn, or as they recalled, Lord Vumahl, they relaxed enough to turn back to their arguments and murmurs apart from Saleith who rushed at the Baladuri, gloved hands clinging to his sleeves in desperation.

“Did you kill him?” she asked. “Did you kill the Crowned Prince?”

Down on the floor below, Prince Jerian kneeled next to Baron Liathe with a few other noblemen almost too frightened to touch the baron’s body. They had moved one of the cages as best they could to block the hole in the wall created by the Tainted when they barreled through the doorway. Some of the men downstairs still blotted their heads with their kerchief that glistened from the recent exertion.

Quinn’s eyes grew appreciably wide in shock at Lady North’s question, and his jaw slackened an inch.

“I most- most certainly did not! Though I dare say th-the Tainted have; the prince smelled strongly of alcohol. He- he ran off as soon as we appeared.” Hm. Her question, though natural and expected, could mean they needed a scapegoat. Legs quivering, he stood. Suddenly, as if realizing what had happened, he blanched, covering his mouth with his hand. “What the hell was that? How the hell did we get into the hallway?”

The activity below caught his attention, filling the focus of his periphery. At least they seemed to realize the scope of what they’d accomplished; the quickly if poorly managed plug in the hole was testament to their own fear that they’d unleashed a thing they’d had no control over at all. Sothal’s chiding crept into his mind. Dammit.

“And who the hell is going to keep those beasts from terrorizing those outside?” His hand raised and a finger pointed to the hole in emphasis.

Releasing her grasp from Quinn’s arms, Saleith marched over to Lord Altrey and snatched the glass bottles from his hands. They were sealed with rags to soak the substance from within. She handed the two bottles over to Quinn essentially shoving them into his chest.

“Light the rags and throw it at the Tainted,” she said. “It's a Night Elixir the Cabal gave to us for this situation. Make sure you are nowhere near it. The fumes will render you unconscious in seconds if you're too close, and then you'll burn to death. And then where will we be? Don't set my house on fire or I'll have your head!”

Indignation rose in the man’s heart: indignation that Saleith should be so brash as to burden him with the responsibility of cleaning up these fool’s mess, but even more so indignation at her for further burdening him with eliminating any possibility of casualty. Never mind that he was provided two weapons to use against four monsters.

“Most of your guests now gather in garden to watch your fireworks, thanks in large part to the efforts of those of nobler spirit than you; if they can be persuaded to leave the party immediately after, all shall live and none of this will come down on your house or reputation.” Sothal might believe that not all the nobility were corrupt and merciless, but if it were so, Lady North was a poor example of them. With a noble ear to at last unload upon, his anger vented, if under strict control. Indignation aside, the Thieves should not be jeopardized. “Minor fire damage should be the least of your concern. Should the Crown Prince still live, I shall make every effort to ensure he knows of what happened and takes appropriate action. What good is combat against your enemies if your very people are self-inflicted casualties in the fight?”

Turning on his heel, all pretext of exhaustion dropped, Quinn stepped through the door and paused. He had promised Adele to let Saleith know where she was to meet her.

“Lady Liathe waits for you under the awning, I was asked to say. Consider that and the wine my first and final gifts to you; you deserve only Tainted teeth.”

He stormed off, Night Elixer in hand and his words out. Their consequence would be paid later, with likely heavy fine. For now, Quinn needed to find someone else with whom to coordinate the attack on the Tainted.
 
Tamerlin Edelva


The two managed to make it to the waterfront without much ado. The docks were largely quiet, save for a boat that was unloading casks upon casks of wine. Tam watched warily as disembarking agents took note of the influx of wine, Tam leading Lynn past them without blinking a single eyelash. His face remained ever stoic under the brim of his sailor's cap, and it was not long before they came upon a single dinghy with a red lantern upon its bow.

"See you made it back alright. Party any good?" a fellow Veteran, Udah Harmish, said with a cheeky grin, and Tam gave him a rather withering glare.

"Lynn, this is Mr. Udah, and he will be our guide tonight. He is one of my very, very good friends, and I expect that he will keep you safe and entertained on the way to the monastery," Tamerlin stated to the girl, looking back over his shoulder.

He frowned as he watched a series of fireworks go off. Tam felt something twist in his stomach. It's not time for the fireworks, not by a longshot. What's got into them? There had been talk of a "demonstration", and with Oracle in the mix, possibly as bait, something niggled at the back of his conscience. The situation seemed untoward, as if there were something out of place here, and he did not like it one bit. Their "guest" at the monastery had said that the Tainted were being used for purposes yet unknown, and those Tainted were difficult to control, difficult to maintain, and difficult to keep secret.

Something was bound to happen, and the rest of the Thieves there might need help. Tam was not a fighter, but he could lend some sort of assistance. He looked back to Lynn, gnawing his lip in thought.

"I am sorry, dear. I truly am, but I have friends back at the party -- truly good friends, trying to help you and the rest of your lot -- and I cannot leave them quite yet. I ask that you go with Udah to the place designated. There, you will find a friend of yours, Gerald I believe his name was. He has been asking to see you, and I'm sure he would be glad to find you safe and sound," said Tamerlin with an apologetic smile. "If you need anything, Udah will help you. There will be others at the island to help you as well. May the waves be kind to you."

Without another word, he took towards the slope, heading up to the party, eventually creeping back through the hole he'd opened in the wall. He realized he had no disguise this time around, and he decided that if pressed, he could act the drunken sailor. His beard and change of clothes would mask his identity from those who'd already "met" him in his Woody persona. With trepidation, he waited at the edge of the crowd to watch the fireworks, unable to shake the feeling that something was not right around here.
[/b][/hr]
 
Last edited:
Kylar sped up his movememnts when he heard the howls and accompanying slaughter as the tainted evidently got out of control. 'This complicates things.' He thought to himself as he came across the first mangled corpse, a guard who had been on the unlucky revieving end of a very unhappy Tainted, the body ripped and in pieces.

Moving on further in he found more bodies, one or two of nobility though far more were guardsmen. Pulling out his rope spear and setting it to a slow pendulum motion he walked at a slow pace, pausing whenever he heard, or thought he heard, movement or other noises. It was when he heard a loud roar, evidence of a Tainted man or woman that was too close for comfort, that he decided that he had ventured far enough. With steps that quickly went from a walk to a flat out sprint, Kylar ran back the way he came, trusting his memory to take him back to where he had come from.

Only twice did he stop, the first time when a Tainted ran through a corridor ahead of him, chasing hapless guards who were concerned only with survival. The second time was where Kylar himself had to remove a guard from his path, the man either bravest or stupidest of his compatriots, bellowing that they were cowards. Kylar's spear made short but bloody work as he hamstringed the man and darted the blade into the guards face, jumping over the body before it landed completely on the ground.

Finally Kylar arrived back where the cages were, this time climbing up the cages and walking above them to stay out of sight of any guards that may see him, for surely they wouldn't leave the other creatures unguarded, after all the work and magic put into them.

He slinked from cage to cage when he heard the door he was looking for open, making Kylar seek the darkest of shadows he could, hiding his rope spear in favour of his dagger, the cages making his favoured weapon all but useless here. Here he waited, to see of the newcomers were friend or foe.
 

The Commons

Within his frustrations he rolled his eyes as he turned towards the direction of the wall, and he seemed to be in quite the hurry. “You said my sister was looking for a tome, correct?”

Swiftly, barely missing a beat, Cordelia followed after him. She wouldn’t bother arguing anymore about the plan - not when there were things better left unspoken. She didn’t want him to rescue her - not again, and least of all if it put him at risk for further exposure or danger - but she couldn’t very well tell him that if she had to, she would not hesitate to defend herself against Jerian, whether that cost his brother dearly or not.

The change in conversation, in tone entirely, was jarring and gave her little option to pursue the situation as it was, and as she kept pace with him, she nodded, “She did, yes. From the sounds of it, I thought she might already have it, but then I spoke to Quinn and he seemed to think otherwise.”

“Whether she has it or not, I anticipated her being preoccupied with Jerian,” he said. “He doesn't come to these things. I didn't account for her being alone, and I need to see that tome before she hands it over.”

They traveled through the bushes in the same fashion as Tamerlin, made evident by discarded masks on the other side. Sothal crouched in the foliage to check their route, offering Cordelia a nod before rising and continuing forward. They were dressed rather lavishly for people on this side of the wall, which if left out in the open for too long could raise suspicions. He also did not anticipate having to smuggle into the castle through back entrances. Their best bet was going through the drainage grate to the Underbelly’s labyrinth.

Outside of the grate, Cordelia paused and with a sigh, shook her head, “It would be this route…” Pulling her hair up off her neck, she turned her back to Sothal, “Unlace me. This dress cost half a fortune… I’m not dragging it through the drainage channels.”

Sothal gave pause at Cordelia’s request, baffled by the concern for a dress. “Are you serious?” he asked, genuinely wondering if perhaps she was trying to be silly.

Looking back at him, she smirked, “Oh, be a man, darling. I’ve got a slip on. And if I sell this thing back to the nobles I stole it from, it could feed half of Windfeld.”

Another sigh escaped his lips as another thought of a drink passed through his mind. His hand instinctively reached for a knife he would have had on his person had he not attended the masque, and once his fingers brushed the fabric of his pants he realized he would have to waste time actually unlacing Cordelia’s gown in the darkened street of Windfeld’s Commons.

Reluctantly, and almost petulantly, Sothal turned Cordelia where her back would get the most moonlight and began working his fingers to find the tie and undo the ribbon. “Are you going to carry the dress with you, then?”

Laughing softly, Cordelia shook her head, “No, sweetie. I’ll leave it here at the entrance and come back for it. If I don’t die… But in that case, I won’t have to worry about it, anyway, so there’s that.”

With the laces loosened, Sothal stepped away from the dress and back to the grate. He looked down the alley to the joining streets, which at this time of night were empty and dark. Lifting the iron grate aside, the entrance to the tunnel was pitch black and narrow and likely would not have taken well to the dress in the first place.

“Hurry it up,” he murmured.

Slipping out of the many layers of tulle and feathers, Cordelia bent and scooped up the dress, folding it before laying it in a small alcover just above the grating. It was difficult to see from most angles, without knowing it was already there, and a perfect niche for hiding stolen goods in case there was a need. This wasn’t her usual cache, but it worked in a pinch.

The cooler air was more noticeable through the linen chemise she was left with, but it would easier to move around in, and decidedly easier to flee, should the need arise. With the luck they appeared to having, that need didn’t seem all that unlikely.

Absently, Cordelia’s fingers skimmed the necklace at the base of her throat. It might have been best to leave that as well, but she wasn’t about to part with it…

Taking hold of Sothal’s arm, she lowered herself through the grate, before stepping back to wait for him, “What’s in the tome…” She finally asked, picking up the conversation where it had been left, “What do you need it for?”

“A great many things,” he answered simply.

@Elle Joyner


The North Estate

An animalistic yelp echoed down the lower level halls where Nadrid stood staring wide eyed into a darkened room. He paid no mind to the bestial cry and the singular howl that followed, for before him were cages stacked upon cages containing people shying away from the dim light that struck an orange line through the black. The Krei nobleman seemed to be frozen in shock at the sight, eventually releasing a breath and sucking in the putrid air involuntarily.

“Lenna?” he called out as he covered his nose with a handkerchief. The caged stared at him hollowly, as if all hope and happiness had been sucked from their souls.

“Nadrid?” a voice called back weakly. He rushed into the dark room narrowed by the rows of cages that lined the walls. Who knew how long some of them had been held prisoner in this room? His fingers grasped the lock on Lenna’s cage, and he pulled out tools to begin to unlock it.

“We need to free everyone in here,” she whispered to him. He didn't acknowledge her words, focus intent on feeling the mechanisms inside the lock.

“Listen to me, Nadrid,” Lenna spoke in a more commanding tone.

“We can't do that now,” he whispered back. “It's too dangerous.”

“They'll kill them all,” she said. “One already escaped. They've wiped the slate before.”

“You know we have our ways,” he said in return, locking eyes with Lenna as he pulled on the lock. It clicked open, and he twisted it off to open her cage door. It was a cramped fit, and the time she had spent in a hunched position made it difficult for her to fully stand straight at first. Lenna cast her gaze up at Kylar, curious if the masked man that climbed back into the rafters had nefarious motives. As Nadrid helped her to the door, she whispered in his ear, though he made no signs of stopping.

Down the hall, however, the final Tainted roved into view, cautiously and intent to find its next prey. It was catching a scent, likely from Nadrid, Milly, and even Kylar’s trail that led to the caging room. Milly was lucky to be shrouded by her Invisibility Ward, but Nadrid and Lenna were headed out the door for the hallway where the beast lurked. They had a matter of seconds before they would come into view and begin the bestial rampage anew.

@rissa @RiddL @Red Thunder maybe?


They watched as Quinn spat his words and walked out with the Night Elixir in hand. The nobles couldn't understand the flare of anger, though some shrugged it off as tension due to their predicament. Saleith’s mouth hung slightly agape at the drastic change in the man that had once caused stars in her eyes.

“Who was he again?” Prince Jerian asked as he stepped next to Saleith.

“Forgive my state, your highness,” she responded with a bow of her head as she willed herself to move. “Lord Vumahl. He owns a vineyard in the countryside.”

“Hmm,” the prince hummed thoughtfully. “Pay him no mind. He perhaps finds frustration in his lower status to which sparked his offense in your request.”

“Perhaps so,” she said with a frown. This was not something Saleith North could let go easily.



It happened right before the guards guarding the doors in the basement that led up and out of the estate. A Tainted was thrown from around the corner, a yelp of pain escaping it as the other, unseen around the corner, howled in triumph. They stood frozen in fear, the Tainted struggling to push itself up and ultimately collapsing once again.

“It’s...it’s not changing,” one guard noted. He looked over to his companion knowing full well what that meant. But they both knew their duties. Fireworks boomed outside the doors behind them, and in the brief moments before another crack the crowd could be heard cheering and clapping in appreciation and awe of the display. There were far too many people outside, and now there was a Tainted in their hall, and it wasn’t turning back into its human form.

It was still conscious.

“We need to distract it and get it away from wanting to go this way,” the other guard said as he crept closer to the beast. It’s labored breaths were visible, as were the deep gashes that streaked its skin under the thick fur. The guard’s voice lowered to a whisper. “I’ll position myself down the hall where they came. You take the other way. Whoever gets in its sights, run, but away from what could lead outside.”

“If I die,” the first guard said, “I’m coming back and haunting you.”

They managed to somewhat position themselves away from the door when the Tainted began to move once again. It growled and grumbled in frustration, and the two guards scurried into position and stood nervously in place, glancing from each other to the beast while silently praying it just would not get up.

“If I survive,” the first guard spoke in a shaky voice, “I’m quitting this job and moving to Thallas. I hear it’s pretty this time of year.”

“All that green,” the other said.

“Fresh air,” the first added.

A particularly loud boom jolted the Tainted up from its place, and the two guards immediately began to shout and call to grab its attention. Coupled with the booming display echoing from outside, it was a bit of a sensory overload. The Tainted lashed out at the two, swiping at them in attempts to stop their taunts and calls. The guards would rush back out of fear, pausing to see if the beast would follow. But it did not, and instead turned away from them and rushed for the stairwell that led out into the backyard of the estate.

The fireworks were louder as the beast breached the open skies, howling into the night at the triumph of freedom, but shying away from the bright explosive lights that spattered the sky in glitter. The awe from the crowd quickly turned to horror, the men and women screaming at the sight of the beast that now stood between the gardens and the open yard. If no one acted quickly, the nobles would disperse chaotically in attempts to flee either through the estate where another Tainted presided, or around it through an unknown variable. All they knew, however, was that there was a deadly creature, and they all wanted to survive.

@Doctor Jax @Red Thunder
 
H200qnb.png

no-lightbox
The Labyrinth below Windfeld was designed for the tide to wash through and clean away muck as a means of lessening disease on the city streets. At low tide there were paths one could walk on, though would need to tread carefully. It held a stench like spoiled eggs and seafoam that would permeate the clothes right down to the skin. The portion of the Underbelly was above where the sea would rise around bends and turns and hidden passages only the Cult of Thieves would know.

Sothal knew even in the dark he and Cordelia could find their way about the Labyrinth with ease. After all, they had been treading these tunnels for years. He looked back at her only occasionally when he became more aware of his quickened pace and was unsure if she was keeping up. They had all been so focused on one part of the bigger picture that Sothal completely neglected to assign the procurement of the Ambrose tome. In fact, he hadn't considered what Cordelia brought to light about his sister until they were at the party.

While he was distracted, he tended not to like to talk within the Labyrinth until at a place he knew his words would not carry to unwanted ears. The portion that led to the castle was long and required a lamp to see, and thus would also reveal anyone who walked within it, if one even knew how to get through its secret passage. Once down that hall, light flickering from the lamp in his hands, he spoke of the tome.

“It's a book of spells,” he said lowly. “Supposedly very powerful Shadow Magic. I asked Quinn to find it for me once I came to know of its existence. When I assigned it to him I wasn't sure if it even still existed, but with Alyse wanting it… All I know of it is speculation, but even that is enough to know it can't be handed to the Cabal.”

Pausing, Cordelia reached out to catch his arm, frowning, “Sothal… It's dangerous enough. What you do. You can't be thinking of learning more. I'm not enough of an example that it isn't worth it? No… we can't let the Cabal have it. But we shouldn't have it either. No one should.”

Sothal’s steps came to a halt at the sudden connection, his head turning to Cordelia with a questioning look. “You misunderstand,” he said as he rolled his arm free. “It’s not for me. We can destroy it once procured, but we have to procure it.”

A brow lifted, but Cordelia released him with a nod, though something in her expression suggested she wasn’t entirely convinced, “You think Alyse’ll just hand it over? She didn’t seem exactly keen on the idea when I talked to her about it. But then, she also seems to think I’m Cabal, too. Of all the traits I could’ve inherited… these damnable eyes.”

“It's not your fault,” he said as he continued on. The acoustics in the long hall made the air feel stale and the noise muted. “I don't know the full story, but I met with a nobleman from Krei who informed me the Cabal is making specific moves throughout Edros. We’re getting tied up in a coming war. Again, all I have is speculation. But I don't believe my sister would willingly give something like that tome to the Cabal unless she felt she had no choice. Her fear of you… of the Cabal. Can you see the connections?”

“Nadrid? He danced with me… Had some rather pointed comments on the issue. And Altrey mentioned it, as well. I’m not surprised she did it… and it worked marvelously in your brother’s favor. What I don’t understand is their purpose behind it. I feel like I understand less and less of anyone’s motives. We’re at a point where we can’t afford to make mistakes, Sothal. Or we’ll everything we’ve worked for. Tonight should have gone differently, and it could have gone a lot worse. We were lucky…” Looking over to him, she frowned delicately, her inflection softening, “If you hadn’t been there…”

He didn't linger on the subject of her possible demise. Sothal’s mind was in a more focused and practical mode, emotions set aside in favor of his methodical thinking that allowed him to make better decisions for their cause. Quinn had been right, after all. He let Baron Liathe get under his skin and caused a haze in his mind. Part of their lack of success was on him in organizing and planning ahead for the masque.

“I would speculate more,” he added, “but it would do us no good.”


 
Quinnis Travers
the Hunting Trip

Dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit!

The pair of bottles of Night Elixir secured as firmly as he could manage in the crook of his left arm, Quinn jogged through the halls of the estate, weaving as cautiously as he could ever closer to the gardens in which the unknowing crowd had gathered to find in the entertaining fireworks some distraction from the meaningless drudgery of their routine- No, focus; these people needed saving. Even their lives were worth something.

It’s not as though I’m any different, spouting off like that. The foolishness of both his delivery and his words stuck his mind through the fog of anger that the stress he felt had caused. No better than Sothal. And at least he had the excuse of being nearly drunk.

His feet beat a rhythm on the polished flooring, undulating as he paused to check a doorway or turn down another hall. The echoes of the fireworks wandered aimlessly through the corridors, as if seeking the ears of those who were denied their beautiful colors. Yet for all the muted noise, the place was eerily still. The servants were either tending to the guests themselves or making the grand ballroom ready for whatever drivel Saleith North planned for.

Saleith. A bridge burned. If she’d found his topical broach of business at their first meeting offputting, she’d certainly think his outburst unbecoming of a personal associate. While he’d not laid much groundwork in establishing her favor, Quinn bemoaned the loss of it; as such a well connected and wealthy noblewoman of Windfeld, his alias would likely be ostracized. Damn.

Shouts drew his attention; two male voices, both sounding fearful and urgent, emanated from around a corner up ahead. Quinn picked up his pace.

He nearly barreled into the pair of guards as they screamed at a retreating and hulking figure. Even covered in scars, the Tainted was a terrible sight. To his later shame, Quinn hesitated, his step halting for a solid moment. Fear gripped his heart, but then the screams of the masses without nurtured a courage in him, and his legs moved again. With his free hand, he grabbed the nearest guard.

“Flint or matches; I don’t care which! Quickly, damn you!”

Already chased by a monster born of shadow set to terrorize at random, the guard’s eyes seemed bulge in surprise at the sudden yank. Fumbling words and spear, he sputtered unintelligibly. His companion shoved a small book of matches into Quinn’s face, his hand shaking marginally less than those of the other. Releasing the frightened man, the Baladuri snatched the book and sprinted away after the beast.

It was standing just within the open garden. A tint of red seemed to blanket the scene, the fireworks above expanding in the crisp design of rose. Its hue hide a small growing puddle of blood beneath the fallen body of some nobleman, his torso nearly clawed in half by wrathful talons. The monster itself stood above him, extracting it’s forepaw as it turned its baleful gaze to the crowd once again. Quinn stumbled at the sight. Hoping that the beast didn’t see him, he set one of the bottles down beside him carefully before striking a match. The crowd had fortunately scattered, and save for the doomed fellow on the ground who was undoubtedly dead anyway, no one stood anywhere near.

“If this doesn’t work,” Quinn muttered, “I’m wolf bait.”

Lighting the rag, he arched his arm backwards and hurled it toward the Tainted as hard as he could. Satisfied, or at the least hopeful, that the Night Elixir was on target, Quinn turned and hurried inside. If what Saleith had said was true, he had no intention of being anywhere near when the bottle broke.

@Effervescent
 

Within The Castle of Windfeld
A collab with @Elle Joyner

The air became a bit less stale, a slight breeze blowing through to signify they were close to the exit and fresher air, at least as fresh as Faledrin could provide. The lamp light caught the frame of the ladder that would lead up into a cellar he personally kept locked. A dummy barrel was placed over the exit, secured firmly to the stone floor and providing extra length to their ascent. Sothal motioned for Cordelia to go up first.

“We can ask her ourselves if she hasn't already left,” he whispered.

Feet to the rungs, Cordelia made her way up until she reached the top, giving a cautious glance out, before carefully pulling herself free. She waited until Sothal was up as well, then turned to him with a nod. All they had to go on was speculation, but if they were lucky, at least one of them had managed to keep Alyse from fleeing for her home - especially if she did, in fact, have the tome.

“You’d better go first. She won’t likely be happy to see me…”

He nodded slightly, unable to suppress the sigh that escaped through his nose as he reached for the door handle. Though just as he reached for it, a clicking could be heard on the other side as a key slid through the keyhole and unlocked the door from the outside. There were only seconds to react; seconds to wonder who else had a key and who else knew of the passage. In those precious seconds Sothal remembered he had nothing to cover his face or Cordelia’s, and no means of escape apart from his shadow jumping into one of the other rooms beside the one they were in. He didn't know what else was in those rooms or if other people were in them.

He wanted to know who was coming through that door and deter them from the hidden entrance to the Labyrinth. In a swift movement he bridged the gap between Cordelia and him, arm around her waist to bring her closer as he quickly moved in for a kiss.

Cordelia missed no beat. There was a not a moment’s hesitation. Whether it was her own swift thinking, or something else, entirely, she’d probably never outwardly admit, but Sothal’s movements were matched nevertheless, fingers curved around the back of his neck to afford her purchase as she pressed as close as space would allow.

Butterflies churned his stomach in what he interpreted as nervousness and excitement in the reveal of who was entering the small cellar. The door swung open, followed by a yelp as the perpetrator caught sight of the couple in their secluded interlude. Sothal pulled back from her lips almost reluctantly, eyeing her over with the faintest expression of curiosity before turning to look at the intruder.

Alyse stood in the doorway, eyes widening a bit more as it registered just who she had walked in on. “Emrys!” she shouted aghast, almost with a sickened tone at the sight of her brother entwined with what she believed to be a member of the Cabal.

As Sothal pulled back, Cordelia inhaled sharply at the exclamation from his sister, her eyes locked on the crown prince, lip twitching up in an impish smirk as she shook her head. “Guess she found us…” She remarked, a little breathless.

“Here I thought I was the only one with a key to this cellar,” Sothal said with a huff of a laugh. He acted embarrassed as he took a step away from Cordelia sheepishly. “What brings you to a drafty old cellar anyway?”

“None of your business,” she said quickly, “and certainly not hers.”

Flushed with genuine embarrassment, Alyse slammed the door and began to walk off down the corridor. Sothal turned to Cordelia and rolled his eyes at the situation, or rather his sister’s welling emotions. “This is going to be fun,” he said to Cordelia. “Where should we interrogate her?”

Smiling faintly, Cordelia shook her head, “Come on now, Love, be fair. That’s your sister... And she just caught you snogging someone she thinks is responsible for imprisoning her family. She’s having a bit of a rough night. Far as we know, she’s not involved in any of this Shadow Magic mess. Interrogating her probably isn’t gonna produce much fruit. Maybe best we start with trying to convince her we’re on her side, instead...hm?”

“Just as much of a chore,” Sothal grumbled as he grabbed the door handle and stepped out into the hall. “Alyse, wait!”

Alyse turned unexpectedly and stormed back to face Sothal more closely. She had a bit of a fire in her that seemed to have replaced her initial shock. “Do you know what they are doing in Dradmida?” she asked him as she motioned towards Cordelia.

She is not one of them,” Sothal assured.

“I'm sure she makes you believe that,” Alyse spat. “She charmed me, too. That's what they do, Emrys. They slither into your lives like a friend, but really they're all snakes!”

“Actually,” Cordelia noted, and there was nothing in her tone that indicated she was offended, or even annoyed. In truth, she understood all too well exactly what Alyse felt, “It was rather the opposite. Though Emrys didn’t so much slither as he did swoop in. He rescued me, Alyse. From the exact life that you think I lead. And whether or not you believe me, I know you trust him… So trust him.”

Alyse’s eyes darted over to her brother as if willing him to confirm all is well. “I never thought I would see the day when I could only trust Jerian,” she whispered.

“You can still trust me,” he said. “There’s no such thing as a mind control spell, and you know I'm not easily swayed.”

“There are other forms of manipulation, you know,” she said. “They are the masters.”

“What did you tell Jerian?” Sothal asked as he took another step towards Alyse.

“They have plans,” she answered, still motioning towards Cordelia in reference to the Cabal. “They took the royal house of Dradmida hostage and they're going to do it to everyone.”

“There’s no way,” Sothal said thoughtfully, and looked back at Cordelia. “They don't have the numbers.”

“They don't need to do anything in the open,” Alyse answered. “They don't need an army. They just need control. And they're getting it. How do you like that kiss now?”

“I guess we know why he tried to have me killed, now…” With a soft scoff, Cordelia shook her head, “Listen, Alyse. I don’t know what to do to convince you I’m not a part of them, short of gouging out my eyes. My mother was… She seduced my father, because she wanted a child that she could raise up under their order. I started training before I even knew I what Shadow Magic really was. And once you start, it cannot be stopped, or it will kill you. But I refused to join the Cabal and after that, she left me behind with my father. A man who forced me to steal for him, and then sold me out, to die… when he thought it would serve him best. I’m not trying to manipulate anyone. I told you earlier, back at the inn why this is so important to me… that was the truth. Take it for what it is… but we are trying to help your family. And Faledrin.”

A frown tugged at her lips almost in a pout, and she looked between the two stiffly. Her shoulders eventually relaxed, and she sighed. “We’re all damned,” she said softly. “Jerian promises he will prepare Faledrin. We aren't sure if Father has been… well, it's just all rather suspect and he’s not exactly approachable.”

“I can handle him,” Sothal said.

“The Golden Child always could,” she muttered with a roll of her eyes.

“What is Jerian preparing Faledrin for?” Sothal prompted, electing to ignore her jealous jab for the time being.

“War,” Alyse stated. “In case I fail. I'm… Well, Gema knows. She hasn't told you? I'm getting a tome for them.”

“Ambrose, yes, I'm after it as well,” Sothal said. “We want to destroy it, though. Do you know what's in that book?”

“You can't destroy it!” Alyse pleaded. “It's the only thing we have to bargain! It can save both Dradmida and Faledrin! You’ll condemn my husband and my king to die!”

Flinching, Cordelia glanced to Sothal, shaking her head, before she turned her eyes back to the princess, “...Alyse. If… if they get ahold of it, we’d be condemning a lot more. But none of that matters, right now. If you don’t have it, and we don’t have it, that means it’s still out in the wind. Which means we have time…” Apprehensively, she stretched out her hand, resting it on Alyse’s forearm, “We’ll find a way. We’re not going to leave you to figure this out on your own. That’s not what we do.”

A defensive disposition was displayed in Alyse’s crossed arms and stiff stance, head tilted downward as she mulled over the presentation. Her head kept shaking slightly as she thought about her options, truly weighing them in her silence.

“I'm the crowned prince of Faledrin, Alyse,” Sothal reminded. “I have sway.”

Taking a step towards the two, and closing the gap to a more intimate confinement, Alysa stated between the two sternly. “You need to see something,” she said to them, and then raised her hand into the air. She began an incantation, violet magic emanating from her fingertips as she channeled the spell. It took a few seconds for Sothal to realize exactly what she was doing and attempted to command her to stop. But before he could utter more than her name, she brought down her hand in a swift motion, and all suddenly went completely black.
 
Tamerlin Edelva


The diminutive blackmailer stood at the edge of the crowd towards the back, watching the fireworks go up, and in his stomach, he knew the world was somehow about to go to hell. It was something of an odd premonition of his, as it were, a sort of cosmic tell that often struck him when things were misaligned and misfortune was at hand. He'd never been able to describe the sensation to others, though perhaps his compatriots within the Cult knew of the experience.

Thus, as he stood with the other nobles, hidden in the oily dark between the lanterns, he kept an eye on his surroundings. Perhaps the feeling had arisen because he felt the others were in trouble. Perhaps his paranoia was finally getting the better of him. Whatever the case, he heard the bang of doors being thrown open from behind him -- back where the basement doors met the open air -- and he turned his head to see the commotion just as the fireworks around him went off, a lurid red painting the landscape as the crowd "oohed" and "aaahed".

And there, standing in the dark, cast in the bloody light, stood a Tainted, wolfish eyes trained on the sheep in the garden. Tam's breath hiked up as it howled to the sky, and the others in the crowd realized their predicament at that moment.

As Tam had worried, the world did explode into chaos. The crowd began to race away from the Tainted, trampling others in their path in a helter-skelter fashion, and Tam glanced around for anything that could possibly be used as a weapon. Seeing a decorative lampstand with an oil lamp, he quickly heaved it out of the ground, and at that moment where the Tainted had stood, a maelstrom of flame burst to life nearby. This only induced more of a panic, and Tam realized that the nobles were more of a danger to themselves than the Tainted at this point.

They need guided out, and the Tainted held back. But how?

An idea flashed in his mind, a tactic he'd picked up while running with Ratfang. Ferry them. Give them something to run away from straight away. He'd flushed people towards Ratfang before with gangs, and it worked with targets, but how could he be sure it would work with a bunch of nobles? Perhaps there just wasn't the time to think about it. He needed to act now.

Cursing his own false name, he ran back towards the maelstrom of fire, and he took the lamp off the stand. He began to run and pour oil in a curved line, setting it alight with the wick as he went. The barrier of flame would serve to hopefully get the Tainted back while pushing the nobles towards the exit, though Tam made sure to shout and point towards the garden's open door.

"That way! You loblolly idiots, that way, follow where I'm pointing!" Tam shouted, waving the lamp stand towards the door as he continued to pour oil, zigzagging the barrier of fire. He was taking a risk, but he hadn't given a second thought to jumping into the danger. Had he the time to think on it, perhaps he would've noted this with something like irony at how much he'd changed.

@Effervescent @Red Thunder[/hr]
 
H200qnb.png

no-lightbox
The Darkness did not have them for long. The ink of the abyss sifted away as light formed shapes and figures that slowly solidified to converge with incredible noise. It was a city, though a strange one with buildings stacked like tall boxes and carts without horses. The evening air smelled stiff and hummed with the sound of the carts as they passed. Both Alyse and Sothal looked unphased by the sight, though Sothal looked visibly angry at his sister.

“Are you out of your mind?” he asked her in a fury. “Take us back! Now!”

Breathing in sharply, Cordelia’s eyes moved rapidly from object to object, fixed with an expression of both awe and fear. During Alyse’s incantation, she had moved closer to Sothal and now she latched onto his arm without mercy, her grip unrelenting.

“Wh…” Shaking her head, she looked to Sothal, wide-eyed, “...What is… where…” Falling back a step, she released him, her fingers curling around the chain beneath her slip, “Sothal, I can’t… I can’t feel it… It’s gone…”

Sothal inhaled in attempts to calm himself as he heard Cordelia at his side, her grasp releasing from his arm. He gave his sister a pointed look before turning and addressing his friend, hands reaching out to gently take her arms. “It's fine,” he assured. “Look at me. We’ll go back soon and you’ll have it all back.”

“Have you been here before, Emrys?” Alyse asked as she stepped towards the pair. She ignored Cordelia’s confusion, though kept looking over at her as she tried to speak to her brother on the matter. He seemed more focused on his friend. “Emrys, this is what they want.”

Turning her eyes to his, Cordelia shook her head as she gripped his arms in return, vibrant blues melting, pooling with tears, “...I don’t want it back. I…” She whispered, before she breathed out, steadied herself, blinking hard, “...Ah. No. Sorry.”

Clearing her throat, she shifted, straightened and looking over his shoulder, stared hard at Alyse, “Why? Why do they want this? And why can’t they just.. come here? Stay here?”

Sothal kept his attention on Cordelia, not completely sure if she was alright, but not exactly keen to stop her from pushing it all away. Alyse peered at her skeptically, though it faded into slight confusion. “It's complicated,” she said. “I can't even keep us here for long.”

“Do they know you can do this?” Sothal asked.

“Yes, they showed me and-”

He cut her off with an exasperated groan, hands sliding down his face before coming back up and through his hair with a sharp inhalation of air. There was a multitude of issues now that appeared to be culminating from an unspoken frustration likely due to ignorance on Alyse’s part. The princess didn't take kindly to the reaction, and threw out her arms as if to present the world around them.

“They want this,” she repeated, and then motioned over to Cordelia. “You feel it, too, right? No magic. This is a completely different world. The Ambrose tome can get them here and then they're here forever. The war never has to happen if I can get that tome to them sooner than later. They would never be able to come back to us. They would have no magic. We would be free of them!”

Shaking her head, Cordelia frowned, her jaw tensing as she considered the options, “That can’t be the answer. Thrusting them on another world? My mother doesn’t need magic to be cruel, Alyse. She manages it all on her own, and I’m sure she isn’t the only one. Her behavior… their behavior wouldn’t change, just because they can’t use magic.” Eyes turning to Sothal again, she reached for his hand, “I wanna go back. We need to find that book… and make sure they never do.”

Taking Cordelia’s hand, he looked over at Alyse. “Take us back,” he commanded. The princess shook her head defiantly.

“Not until you agree to let me handle this alone,” she said. “They're bad people, but we need to think of our people. We need to save our people.”

Sothal took in another sharp breath and exhaled slowly, looking over at Cordelia with a more calmed expression. “We might have to wait this one out,” he said. “Are you in the mood for anything sweet?”

For a moment, Cordelia seemed startled by the question, but there was a pause and with a quizzical expression, she nodded, slowly, “...I suppose if we have to wait, might as well.”

“Emrys, this is serious!” Alyse exclaimed.

“And we have a serious need for ice cream, Alyse,” he responded indifferently. “Are you coming or are you going to stand there and pout until you can't hold off any longer?”

Sothal led Cordelia down the sidewalk where cars lined the road in stagnation. He didn't look back to see if his sister was following and took more interest in gaining his bearings. “I’m sure this is all a bit of a shock,” he said to Cordelia. “But I promise you Alyse can't hold us here forever. Maybe an hour at most. It's more difficult to maintain the connection with more people. It's bad news if they figured out she can come here. Do you know if your mother is still active in the Cabal?”

"A bit?" Cordelia mused with a soft chuckle, "You're not usually one to understate. It's... I don't know what the word for it is. A world made of metal and glass? And one of these buildings... could house half the poor in Windfeld. If anyone needs this place, it's not the Cabal."

Shaking her head, she glanced down, at his question, “If she’s alive, she’s active. She’d never stop. She can’t… It’s as much an addiction to her as the magic itself. The power... She wouldn’t leave them. Not for anything.”

The sidewalk lined each building along the grey roads, and as they neared a corner Sothal took them left across the road, head quickly looking in both directions as he crossed more quickly to the other sidewalk. They garnered a few stares from passersby due to their garments. Alysa rushed to meet them and draped her cape around Cordelia so that she would be less exposed in her undergarments.

There was a creamery just down the block a few kids sat outside of. They were more keen to stare at them as they entered, brows pushed together in confusion and whispers churning as they passed. Alyse leaned towards Sothal to whisper to him as well.

“How are you going to pay for this?” she hissed.

“With money,” he answered simply before ordering three cones. The currency he placed on the counter was indeed foreign, and quite strange that he would possess it. And yet the man behind the counter simply counted them and turned away without another word, returning moments later with three ice cream cones. Sothal handed one to Cordelia and the other to Alyse, demonstrating how to eat it as he turned for the door.

Cordelia watched, dumbfounded, utterly struck by the world around her. The blinking lights and the noisy carriages… the people in their odd clothes, staring boldly. Inside the small shop, she remained silent, a brow lifting at the odd paper money Sothal handed over and her curiosity continued as he handed her the cone shaped treat.

Following him outside, she took a bite and a moment later, paused with a grimace as she braced herself on the wall of the creamery, “Oh… what’s happening? This… my head…”

“Here, do this.” Sothal opened his mouth and stuck in his thumb to press the pad against the roof of his mouth. “Trust me, it helps.”

“How can you two stomach being so casual about this?” Alyse bursted as they meandered back down the sidewalk. “Stars, Emrys! People are going to die.”

“Hm,” Sothal hummed thoughtfully, “I believe Gema and I have an acquaintance we may be able to put to use. There's a man in Faledrin who might be able to forge a copy. We could essentially give them what they want, but without what they need. What say you two?”

Flinching, looking between the two, Cordelia shook her head, “It’s better than handing it over outright. There’s no guarantee they’ll believe it, but we cannot let them get their hands on the real thing.” Turning her eyes to Alyse, she frowned, “People are already dying. They have been, for years. But the noble house turns a blind eye when it’s not one of their own. Funny how it’s only urgent, now.”

With a sigh, she glanced back to Sothal, “Let’s do it.”

“Can you guarantee it will be convincing?” Alyse asked with a hesitant air of hope.

“Absolutely,” he said in return, and within the blink of an eye they were pulled back into darkness, emerging once again in the basement corridors of the castle. Alyse collapsed immediately upon return, but Sothal did not seem terribly concerned. He simply bit off a portion of his cone before handing it to Cordelia to hold for him.

“See?” he said. “We need to find Tamerlin. Hold this for me.”

Blinking, Cordelia watched, holding the cone with a small frown, “...Is she going to be alright? I lost track of Tam at the party, did… did he get out, alright?”

Once freed of his confectionary treat, he scooped his sister up from the floor. “She overextended herself, but she’ll be fine,” he assured and began walking down the hallways. “Tam’s been following that fellow, Wells, for some time. He might be a good candidate for this project, but if not there's always the half-elf. We’ll make a stop by the laundry and pick something out for your guise. I'll get you on the roster and settled in here before going back out.”

“Did… did you know she could do that? No.. I guess not.” Frowning, she shook her head, “We just have to hope she’s the only one of your siblings hiding certain talents. If Jerian can… Hm.” Rubbing her arms, she smirked faintly, “I’d almost forgotten that’s why we came here. Hell of a night, and not half over. Do… do you want to me wait, if he comes back? Or just...”

“You’ll stay here,” he said. “I don't know when he will come back, but he eventually will. Might even try to come see Alyse to relay the news. I didn't know she could do it. I don't know if Jerian can or could if he tried. But…”

His voice trailed off, partially due to reaching the laundry. It was silent at this hour of the night. The ladies had gone off duty to head home for the night. Lines of sheets and racks of clothes streamed across the large room to dry.

“Make no mistake,” he whispered to her. “The Cabal is coming for Faledrin.”