The Fiery Glazier

((Woo 100!))

Serrana's dark eyes brightened at the concept of them heading home that night. They must not be terribly far off after all, and that she could get home and set some worries of those who cared about her at ease took a weight off her shoulders. The glazier smiled wide. "Excellent! Don't get me wrong Taran, I'm really glad to see you, but I've been away for... wow... how long HAS it been?" Serrana looked down, brow furrowed in thought as she shook her head. "Sand's breath, weeks? I'm not really sure... oh wow... they must be worried sick - or sure I'm not coming back." The pensive look returned briefly to the young sorceress's face - she'd enjoyed the opportunity to further her studies, even if it was under duress, but she felt incredibly guilty about leaving behind people who cared for and depended on her... even if it wasn't her fault."

The brief fugue vanished when Taran hugged her again, and Serrana let out a brief chuckle. "Now now, Taran, I'm pretty sure he doesn't mean me," she said playfully, before letting out a little bit of a yawn. "I suppose if we're leaving during the night, I should rest for now though?" The sorceress looked around, glancing at the tents around the encampment. "Where should I go, or do you want me to stick around out here?"
 
Taran smiled. "Right, right. Um." He looked around, then pointed to a tent. "That tent. It's mine, but you can use it, and I'll nap in the mess when I'm finished with my chores. Your friends can also rest in the mess, if they want. Sleeper tents are in short supply."

Armand huffed, but kept quiet. "Do you have any dark-bloods here who need a tutor?" He hated to be idle, even though he loved to laze—a funny combination for an adventurer.

Taran shrugged. "I dunno. I think? Ask around."

Armand swore, then wandered off, and Taran watched him go before looking at his sister. "And now I've got you to myself for a bit. Come on. My chores can wait." He led her to his tent and motioned her inside. "I want to know everything, Serra."
 
Serrana nodded, then waited for Taran to finish pleasantries before they went to his tent to talk. The sorceress wasn't expecting her brother to have such a stern tone, but when she thought about the ramifications of everything, she had to admit she at least understood why he'd had that response.

The young woman bit the inside of her cheek for a moment, thinking, trying to figure out what to say and how to say it - just as much concerned with her brother's opinion as she was someone outside the tent eavesdropping and hearing it.

"Serra..." her brother intoned, somewhat sternly as his brow furrowed slightly.

"Alright, alright!" Serrana said in a yielding manner as she sat down, beckoning Taran close and speaking in a hushed tone, making sure that the sound couldn't travel outside of the tent as her brother leaned forward to listen. "Remember when we were kids, I think you were nine, and your favorite cloak went missing and you had to do your chores in the sun for two weeks without it? I... might have hidden it in one of the chicken huts..."

"Serrana..." Taran growled, folding his arms.

"What? You burned my doll's hair! It was payback and you know it!"

The desert soldier let out an exasperated sigh as he rolled his eyes. Some things never changed. "That's not what I meant, sis."

Serrana smirked a bit and relaxed - she had been somewhat tense since he'd said he wanted to hear everything. "Fiiine. But... just listen, okay?"

The sorceress retold the tale, starting by prefacing that she'd been working harder than normal at the glassworks and that she was on her way home from what was probably her best performance at the White Sands (both places Taran knew well from his time at the capital), and was on her way home. When he gave her a look that meant he thought she was stalling, she mentioned the "Black Cockerel" and her suspicions of both what he was up to with a name like that, as well as his concern for her health prior to the abduction. When it seemed to be part of the same story, Taran relaxed a little, but was still intent (and a bit upset, since he was listening to the tale of his sister being abducted).

Serrana told him about Golbev, and the humans that actually committed the act. Then about Nikolov, and what they wanted from her. She mentioned the ritual, and its intention of feeding people. She mentioned that while she was there, the goblin and the lutin were the most courteous ones she dealt with, save maybe the dance instructor. The firedancer also mused that she wasn't sure how the heck they got a dance instructor out there, and she didn't see him outside of lessons, which was very weird, since she had run of the place (well, the parts that weren't booby-trapped, at any rate).

She also made sure that her brother knew that they treated her civilly - Noone struck or threatened her, and her studies were not only allowed, but encouraged, which she thought was odd. She'd heard many of the stories of goblins, and believed them, so this struck her as very, very odd. In that quiet voice, she did exactly what Taran asked, and told her everything, from factual to inferred, act to opinion, save one piece of information: Serrana withheld that Nikolov had escaped. She trusted her brother implicitly, and she felt she should tell someone, but she felt she owed it to the lutin to not put the hounds on his tail.

"I would guess that those notes Oria has are related to the ritual Nikolov wanted to perform," she said, finally wrapping up the tale, "and from what I can gather, his intentions are true... but we both know how little formal training I've had, so I'm operating on instinct and my own study rather than proper lessons... But I'm okay, really. Other than the stanky rag that those foreigners used to take me, noone hurt me - not once. Not even the fat goblin with the big axe. He even seemed to understand why I was so angry about being abducted and backed off over it..." Serrana let out a sigh, glad to be in familiar company, even if this journey wasn't behind her just yet.
 
Taran sighed as she finished her tale. "It sounds... really strange, but I trust you're not lying. I'll have to tell my superior and probably the duke himself, though. There's going to have to be an investigation, especially if that Oria woman doesn't think she killed them all." He ran a hand through his hair. "And the lutin really told you to chain yourself so you'd be safe from the two who saved you? Why?"

He didn't understand it, but... He paused. "Was he trying to make sure they didn't think you were a goblin ally?" The idea struck him strange. How many actual allies to the goblins had gotten off the hook by putting on a pair of chains? This could be a big problem, especially for his sister. He closed his eyes as his love of his sister battled his faithfulness to the army.

In the end, he decided to make something up about blackmail or something, so he could tell everything, but hopefully save his sister the trouble of an interrogation from his superiors. "You'll probably be asked to repeat everything to my superiors, too. This could be a matter of safety, especially if they were lying or they've been using subterfuge to infiltrate our cities. You understand, right?"
 
Serrana nodded. She knew she'd be held accountable on that front. But something else bothered her, once she started to think about it, and she thought it might be rather important.

"Taran... I'm not sure this was a goblin thing... I only remember ever seeing two goblins there - the big one, and the lutin. There were a notable amount of humans that came and went. This could be a separate faction altogether. Yes, the lutin told me to be chained up, but I don't think he had a way of knowing who was coming either, and wanted to play it safe. Plus, Oria and Armand said they fought their way down to me. Taran... there were no bodies. None. And that place had booby traps - the lethal kind. There was a little blood, but that was it. I'm not sure they did much at all to get there. Something about their story stinks, badly."

The glazier let out a sigh as she looked down, then back up at Taran. "I think there's more going on here than even I realize, Taran. But this whole thing doesn't add up. Especially when the nicest people in this whole story have been the goblins. That really makes me raise an eyebrow. I got kidnapped by a couple of stinking outlanders, and rescued by two more I don't trust. In the meantime, the ruin we were in was... safe. It's bizarre. I honestly don't think they meant any harm, but it's still so strange."

Serrana let out a sigh and slumped down to the floor, her back against the makeshift bed. She was exhausted from all of this, and every thought she had created more questions. A litany of things from how legitimately peaceful the goblins and their plans were or weren't to the real motivations of her supposed rescuers. Serrana's brain was swimming, and though she was willing, she did not like the idea of telling her brother's superiors; indeed, she thought that would only make it worse somehow.
 
Taran tossed his head covering back and ran a hand through his sweaty hair until the ends stuck straight up. "So, you don't think this is a goblin-run plan?" He put the thought to words before he realized what it was. "If that's the case, I'm going to investigate this myself before I report it. If I hurry, I can catch up to that Oria woman and get those papers." He turned and pulled his covering back on, and with a kick off one foot, he was out of the tent, leaving Serrana behind as his covered sandals slapped the hard ground.

Alone in the tent, the young woman was left alone with her thoughts until a folded paper device floated in the open tent flap, to land on her lap.

If she opened it, it had a message written with Old Saldeclan symbols, but the words were current Saldeclan.

Burn the papers.

- Nikolov
Click to expand...
 
Serrana gave a tired sigh and shook her head. "I don't know, honestly. I mean, I met goblins there, and they seemed to have authority, but I didn't see entire warbands or tribes or the like... I'm not exactly the most well-versed in such things, but it didn't seem to me like it was what we would think of as 'goblin run', at the very least. It very well could have been joint, or rogue, or any number of things. But other than my being abducted, it didn't even seem... violent. They didn't even hurt or really threaten me once I was there..."

Once her brother left, the young sorceress's mind raced. She wanted to go home badly, but now, now there was another worry. This was more than some simple kidnapping, and even some ritual. There was far, far more to this than she had considered even until now, and it was starting to hit her. Serrana was at an utter loss... all she'd wanted to do at this point was get home and go back to her normal life. But now? Investigations? Secret plots. The duke?! The glazier's head was swimming as she tried to just relax and pull it together.

Then a paper landed in her lap, and as she opened and read it, Serrana's eyes went, momentarily, wide. The note meant they were important - important enough not to fall into the hands of the military. But what did that mean? Was it the right thing to do? Would she be a traitor if she did? Her mind began to dash about almost desperately, trying to put pieces together and think quickly - she didn't know how long she'd have to come up with something, and that was assuming that her brother did get the papers back before Oria reported them.

She'd also settled on something else: something that important should not be destroyed. Not yet. She knew about part of the ritual, but not all. She needed to know more... and the more she thought, the more that was the key. This ritual, if it was what Nikolai claimed, was powerful. And if it wasn't, it was equally powerful. She remembered he never explained all of it, merely its intent. If she got a hold of the notes, she could gauge the truth of the matter far, far better. If it was sinister, turn them in. Protect her family and her homeland. But if not, these notes needed preserved, and if she just got this note, she knew Nikolai was watching, come whatever may. Serrana flipped her book open, cast Inferno briefly, incinerated the note in her hand, and let the globes of flame wink out. She knew what she had to do now: She had to get those papers back.

And that was when the young sorceress thought of something: How the hell did Nikolai get into the outpost unnoticed to deliver such a message, let alone that close to know what they were talking about?!
 
Good questions both, but neither without an obvious answer. Outside, people sluggishly walked about, save soldiers who walked at a crisp pace, sweaty and smelly, towards their tents for an afternoon nap.

If she looked around, she could see her brother speaking to Oria as the woman leaned against a pole beside a large tent. He pointed somewhere, and Oria sighed visibly, then jogged toward where he pointed. Taran waited a moment, and then shrugged, tucked the papers into his whites, and made his way back to his tent. If it meant getting yelled at, he was going to protect his sister unless he such a time came that he learned she was a traitor with no doubts.

This was not that day, so he slipped into his tent and blinked at the ash inside. "What's that?" He pointed at the small pile.
 
Serrana glanced all around for where the note had come from, still mystified at the concept that Nikolai was here, and how he got the message to her. When her brother asked about the tiny ashpile, she scattered it promptly, making sure it was lost to the dust for any other eyes that might come in, and held up a finger when he went to say something about it, then beckoned him closer, making sure that the tent flap was completely closed and that noone would see or hear as she whispered to her brother.

"It was... a note. From the lutin. He wants me to burn those papers" Serrana whispered once she was sure noone could eavesdrop. "I think he's scared of them getting into the wrong hands, and I don't blame him. I'm not sure they should be destroyed though, not until we know better what they are." Taran looked at her incredulously, not sure he believed her at first until she gave him an almost disgusted look, scrunching her face and seeming quite offended by the implication. "Why would I start lying now, Taran?" she whispered, agitated. The soldier thought about that for a second, then nodded. "Sorry."

The sorceress took a deep breath and nodded. "It's alright..." she said, lowering her head. "I promise that's what it was though. Please, Taran - help me get home. We can look into it better there, I promise. I need to know what this is - who it helps, or who it hurts. I need to know why I was taken! Then, if it's a threat to us, to Aridefort, then we act on it. If it's not, we figure it out... otherwise..." Serrana let out a sigh, this new worry creeping into her mind as she shook her head, then continued, still nearly silent, "Otherwise it may happen again. And quite frankly, if I'm going to be involved in a ritual, I'd like to know what it is and have the choice about it. But right now, none of it makes sense, and I'm tired of being blind - no matter what I end up seeing."
 
"We don't have time for waiting til we get to your apartment." Taran shook his head. "I can lie to those wanderers, but I can't lie to my superiors. We'll take a look at them here and now." He smiled at her briefly before he began to read the papers.

The first was an expense report, mostly for food and a few spell books, all level one, and all for pure-blood humans. Some were Serrana's fire, and some were not. There were also wages for unnamed 'trainers' and 'teachers', and wages for twenty 'soldiers'. There were also some expensive objects, like basilisk scales and skulls of the undead, which were both almost impossible to harvest and keep potent. Basilisk scales could only be harvested if the creature was alive, and undead skulls had to be... well, nobody knew, but they had to be animate, which was very difficult.

The next few pages were reports on Serrana's progress. They were fairly glowing: she was an eager learner, she didn't push herself until she got hurt, and as long as she was treated with respect (and that word was underllined) she was not unwilling, even if she was suspicious of their motives.

The last page was a description of needed preparations. Get a willing pureblood human and teach them level one magic in each of the books in their chosen element, then teach them to dance while using magic. Arrange magical objects on a circle. Formulate the ritual.

Then, when it was done, find a way to distribute it to all of the dirt in Saldecla—all of it. The paper projected that crop yields would rise by at least four times, and the goblins estimated that with that kind of yield, humans would within a few years lessen their hold on some arable land and the goblins could claim it for themselves.

The plan was projected to take ten years.

"So... they want our farm land?" Taran's lip drew back as his eyes narrowed. "Why would a goblin wait ten years for that? Their usual tactics are just to group up and charge us, then..." He paused. "Then die because we have a better army. Yeah, I can see why they're changing tactics." He scowled and tapped at his lips with one finger. "The crop yields across the whole country, though. That's... I'm not sure that's possible. Goblins don't even have music. The last witch can't use more than light spells and illusions these days. Angels wouldn't help them, and neither would fairies... and demons are mindless." He sighed and shook his head. "And humans can't use rituals of this magnitude."
 
Serrana looked through the papers even as her brother did, the pieces of the puzzle making a lot more sense now. "Taran..." she said, her voice still as quiet as possible. "I don't think the lutin was lying. All this is exactly what he was telling me - though he didn't say nearly as much." The sorceress blinked a bit, thinking, then looked at her brother.

"Taran... I... I don't think I can ignore this..." she said quietly. "Look, this isn't a goblin-specific thing. They aren't trying to conquer or hurt anyone. They're trying to feed people, and not just theirs. Look..." Serrana pointed at the notes - there wasn't anything about attacks, assaults, raids, simply making sure they could feed those they'd drawn into the ritual. "This could end the war, Taran. Yes, we almost always win against them, but not without casualties. What if we weren't fighting them anymore? What if small frontier towns didn't have to scrap and claw for food... what if our parents could never worry where the next meal came from? Without risking any lives? Isn't that something we should at least consider?"

The glazier rifled through the pages again, putting pieces of what was going on together. Her knowledge of magical theory was limited, but this made sense, this could work. "Taran... I don't think we should destroy these, but I worry that if you go to your commander, this will be lost." She took a deep breath and looked him in the eye. "If this is for real, Taran, I can't turn my back on it..."
 
Taran watched his sister as she grew more and more invested, and then made clear her intentions. Part of him that had been for years in the army fighting goblins snarled, but he kept silent. This was his sister, and she wasn't one for flights of fancy, not often, at least. She'd never do anything she thought was harmful, but who could trust goblins? Clearly, his sister felt she could, but the whole situation just... felt wrong. Wrong at a deep level.

"You're worrying me, Serry. Think about it, they're trying the impossible. Goblins can't use magic. Humans can't use ritual magic of this magnitude. They'll have to turn someone into a witch to pull this off, if it's possible at all. Magic has limitations."

Despite his objections, he made not move to grab any of the papers from Serrana, nor to stop her. "Talk to someone before you do anything about this. I'll tell the commander you took the papers and that you're going to hire some mercs out of anger for being kidnapped. It'll buy you time before someone checks in with you."
 
Serrana listened to her brother, and nodded. He made a good point, this ritual was massive in scope. But the pieces and preparation were as well, and that part of things Serrana recognized as necessary for such rituals, human, monster, or what-have-you. She wasn't sold on this "turn-to-a-witch" thing; she hadn't seen anything like that in the notes. But there was also quite a bit here, and one glance wasn't going to be enough. Serrana went through them again and noted some things - some of this information was simple data; almost pure budget information. Information that was probably now inaccurate anyway, given that the first go at the plan was scuttled. Secrecy cost money, as did recovering from failure. The lutin's numbers were going to be far off now, at least some of them. The sorceress memorized a few of the more pertinent-sounding ones: ones related to the spell itself, then separated the logistical and the mystical, looking up at Taran.

"Here," she said, pushing the logistical stack towards her brother. "This should satisfy your commander, I would think... There's enough in there to give them something to search - which is important if there's an actual danger out here, especially to a settlement or trade caravan. None of this is relevant - it's all related to the ritual. I can take this to someone back at the capital and get advice. I'm not rich enough for an apprenticeship, but I've enough saved to pay for a little tutoring, and I can use it towards this... especially now that I don't have to spend it on my next books." Serrana smirked slightly and jerked her head towards her pack, which had several more books in it than when she'd left.

"There's another piece of this that bothers me..." The firedancer looked up at her brother once more, the grin disappearing from her face. "I'm... not the most well-versed in this, but the scope... it seems... flawed. It specifies all of Saldecla. There's no way for the ritual to know that, for lack of a better way of putting it. There's no 'radius' or 'area of effect'. There would have to be some other means for the spell to know a very, very precise layout of borders and lines, including across bodies of water. That doesn't make any sense. Everything within so far of some magical font or some such, maybe. But not precise areas along a national border. Why so specific? And why can't it be scaled down? There's pieces to this puzzle that aren't here still, Taran. I want to know those too."

She sighed, looking down at the papers, then back at him again. "I will not rush into this. I promise. And if it looks or smells wrong, I will walk away, you have my word. But I have to at least look, at least try..." the glazier gave a bemused chuckle, shaking her head. "And if the lutin who got me into this doesn't like it, he can kidnap a less feisty sorceress next time."
 
Taran tilted his head, doubt on his face as he looked at the notes. His eyes flicked up toward Serrana, then shrugged. "I don't know. Either they're wasting magic on the desert and ocean, or they're going to perform multiple instances, or the ritual creates an item that can be activated, though it does mention distributing it. I think that means whatever this ritual is making has to be shipped out." He frowned. "I don't trust it, Serrana. It's a goblin thing." He still kept his voice quiet enough that only she could hear as he looked over the stack he'd been given and sighed.

The papers offered were a bunch of numbers: important numbers, but they didn't worry him as much as goblins doing magic. They weren't supposed to be capable!

"To me, it already smells wrong, but... I'm going to trust you'll hand over all you learn and find if it looks like you're going to commit treason or hurt anyone by continuing." He closed his eyes. "I'll come up with a cover for why you have some of the papers, and say they related to you specifically, so don't let anyone else see them, or I'll be the one in trouble for letting this happen." He smirked and leaned forward to kiss her forehead before he backed out, gripping the papers with the numbers. "I'll go turn these in."

He backed out and closed the tent flaps, then darted to the command tent, leaving Serrana in quiet solitude for the moment.
 
The sorceress shook her head - not at Taran, but at what all she was looking at. The ritual itself was massively complex. She'd even gotten fleeting glimpses of Level 4 magic books before, and they weren't even close to this intricate. Serrana wanted to know what was going on here, for a multitude of reasons, but she knew she couldn't figure that out alone.

"That's possible... but there's no way to know without finding out." She looked up at him. "Hell, for all I know, this is supposed to turn the dancer into some bizarre earth titan that sheds all over the land before sinking into the sea..." she joked quietly. "And since I don't feel like becoming a silt-covered mudmonster, I will make sure I know about it, Taran. Remember... I was kidnapped too. I didn't want this, but now that I'm neck-deep in it, I need to at least look. I promise to be smart about it."

Serrana leaned forward as he kissed her forehead, mouthing the words "thank you" before gathering up and stashing the papers. She left the ones specifically relating to firedancing on top, just in case they got looked at, and her mind almost immediately wandered to where to go once she was home, and how to go about finding the right people to talk to about this... that alone would be a bit of a chore. She desperately wanted to know what was entailed in these notes, but her name and loyalty would be questioned if she went about it wrong... no matter how pure her intentions were.

First things first though - she needed to see Oran and Gionni at the glassworks and White Sands. They must be worried sick still...
 
Taran returned not long after. "I don't know about you, but I'm going to nap now." He offered a brief smile before he let himself fall the short distance to his bedding. He closed his eyes, but it was fairly clear he ws still awake for several minutes before he drifted off.

He didn't dream, but simply relaxed and let his still body slowly cool inside the shade of the tent. His body generated less heat like this, and his sweating began to let up.

His nap was interrupted an hour later by someone's shouting. He pushed himself up to a crouch and looked toward the door, then his sister. "Time to go." He grinned at her, then began to pack up. It was just his sleep kit and his tent, but he could get quite a bit done before he disturbed his sister, whether she was looking at papers, napping herself, or otherwise.
 
(Less life drama, more posting, Pez... get it together!)

Once everything had been gathered, the young sorceress had curled up for a rest, and had fallen asleep in short order. It had been an intense day, and Serrana was ready for it to be over.

No such luck.
Awakened an hour or so later by the shouts, the young woman made a noise that sounded akin to a cross between a whining objection and an upset cow's plaintive moo before rolling over and pulling whatever cloth was nearby over her head. She stayed that way before her brother roused her more directly, which elicited a similar noise before she finally stirred enough to get up.

Serrana looked about the tent, slightly bleary-eyed from the recent nap, and gathered what little she needed to before they left. Her long (normally) straight hair was an absolute mess, and she grumbled as she tried to straighten it just a bit before doing whatever was necessary to help out before they headed out with the group, her eyes looking around to see if anything unusual was going on, or if this was, indeed, going to be a hopefully uneventful trip home.
 
As she hoped, the trip back was uneventful. There were a few harpy sightings, but they remained distant and skybound. While they walked, Taran paid her no attention: not because he didn't care, but because he had a job to do, and military punishments were severe. The pace was no less than arduous, and offered no time for talk regardless.

They arrived in a small settlement for a meal and some sleep, and before dawn, set off again. They arrived just before noon at Aridefort City, and marched through the near-empty marketplace. To one side, Serrana could see a pair of people out. One looked native to Driazhek, and one seemed unusual: she had strange, flat eyelids and an unusual face shape. Never before had any in the group seen anyone with skin that looked like brass before, and a few soldiers even slowed as they tried to watch as unobtrusively as gaping soldiers could.

The foreign woman squinted and leaned forward. Her hair was whipped by the desert winds, and her brow sweaty. "I don't care if it's nap time here, I am offering you business."

"Ma'am, none of my employees are awake! I cannot serve you without them."

"Listen, it is vital. Someone's life is at stake!"

The local merchant frowned, and his attitude changed. "Yes?"

By then, the soldiers and Serrana began to leave earshot, and several had to run to find their position in the marching order again. The group arrived at the military side of the castle, and entered a large room with chairs. They stood in front and waited to be told to sit before they obeyed, and then a man with a monotone voice babbled on and on about the evils of harpies and how they needed to expand their route because goblins were reported in the desert now.

At the end, he released them, and Taran approached Serrana. "I'm off for a week. Where to first?"

On the other side of the room, the two adventurers spoke together quietly, and then approached the speaker.
 
Serrana's eyes narrowed thoughtfully just a bit as she watched the pair that had retrieved her, but decided not to dwell on it. They would speak quieter than she would be able to hear, and they knew much less than she did. It was unlikely that her presence was going to change anything or bring new knowledge.

Besides, she had things to take care of, and people to see.

"Oran's Glassworks first. He needs to know I'm back and alive, and what happened. By the sands, I feel awful for having just left him like that..." Serrana shook her head, frowning as she lowered it a bit, an incredibly guilty look on her face. She may have had no choice in the matter, but she had been forced to abandon the old man during one of the times he likely needed her most, due to the new grandchild and simply having no shortage of work to do. The White Sands might have missed and adored her, but she was much closer to necessity to Oran than to the restauranteurs...
 
"Alright." Taran nodded and led the way out. "There, first." He smiled at her warmly.

The walk to the glassworks was accompanied by a strange sense of the unusual. The air wasn't the typical buzz of activity for this time of day, and the air felt unusually humid. Vapor distorted the air coming up from every surface, even the gaily-colored cloth that overhung market stalls and doorways.

Sweat clung, instead of evaporating as it should have.

"It wasn't this sticky before we went in for the debrief, was it?" Taran looked around.
 
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