✧ Location: Lord Mystralath's Office ✧ Purse: 12 copper ✧ Collab with @Achronum ✧Silence was the worst answer Vivian could have given; it left Kyreth alone with his thoughts to conjure up the most terrible of fates awaiting him as they made their way up to the Lord’s office. Scanning the corridors and rooms as they walked, the grandeur of the House was lost to Kyreth, reduced to a two-dimensional map of doors, windows, and pathways in between. The cozy tavern space was a series of obstacles to be thrown in the path of pursuers; the windows looking over the gardens a passable but unappealing egress point. The walls of the corridor on the third floor pressed in on him like the shoulders of guards, stifling his path in the likely event that he needed to quickly escape. It wasn’t the worst situation Kyreth had ever been in, but unless there were some windows in Lord Mystralath’s study that he could leap out of when the local authorities came for him, he feared he wasn’t going to have a lot of options.
Vivian stopped; Kyreth, caught up in his inspection of the place, nearly bumped into her. The look on the older woman’s face could have curdled milk, and Kyreth was briefly impressed she could hide her disdain so well downstairs. That was a good skill. Her words, of course, made her opinion on the matter very clear. Funnily enough, it was practically a comfort to hear Vivian hissing threats at him - if nothing else, distrust and disdain were much more familiar territory for a Tainted than the strange and foreboding generosity he’d been shown in the Bounty House so far. At least when he was being threatened, he knew where he stood.
Still, he took Vivian’s “advice” to heart: hands in your pockets, eyes on the floor, keep your mouth shut. That worked great for him; he had no idea what to say to a Lord anyway. Well, until the point where he’d inevitably have to throw himself on his knees and beg for mercy, but that was usually pretty straightforward. The mention of Cerric’s “pet” did put a shiver up Kyreth’s spine, though. Could
that have been the source of the lights in the water? It might have been a relief that those apparitions weren’t actually the warnings of dead sailors, but it wasn’t much comfort when the alternative was a beast stalking the lake. Dammit, that meant swimming was out of the question. The bridge would be his only way out if things went sideways.
Too soon, Vivian opened the door and motioned for Kyreth to enter. Sticking his hands under his new cloak and into his pockets as ordered, he dutifully stepped inside, sparing only a glance backward as the door closed behind him before jamming his eyes firmly to the floor. On the way down, though, he caught enough of a glimpse of the room to be impressed; furnished in rich colours and softly lit, every surface covered in some sort of esoteric trinket or bauble glinting in the firelight. Everything looked extravagantly expensive; the rest of the House was well-appointed enough to stun him on its own, but this room trumped it all.
The one thing he didn’t see at first glance, however, was the Lord himself. Kyreth mused that he might be coming in after him until he heard the faintest
clink of metal from across the room, rising and falling with the rhythm of breath. He risked the quickest glance up and almost jumped when he realized that the man himself was behind the desk, his extravagant costume blending into the room itself. Unnerved, Kyreth’s heart took up his throat for a moment, but he bit down hard, staying resolutely silent as instructed while he willed his pulse to slow.
Lord Mystralath regarded the frightened thing in front of him silently. Aleka’s note suggested ill intent in the boy’s omission but he certainly doubted the terrified child in front of him was interested in crossing anyone, let alone a noble whose services he required.
“Welcome to my House, Kyreth Bertasson. I hope the journey from home proved pleasant.” The Lord spoke softly, as if speaking to a spooked animal and kept his tone even and light. He gestured to the drinks next to him.
“Would you care for a drink? I have a pleasing selection that should satisfy the need to wet the tongue while you regale me with the tale of your and your traveling compainion’s journey. Soft Haven is a long way from Buscon after all; nearly far enough to start anew, if that be your interest.”To Kyreth’s surprise, the voice that rose from the masked figure behind the desk wasn’t the ghostly whine of a phantom haunting a statue, but a normal man. More than that, a rather
kind normal man, whose gentle delivery and double-edged question had a way of putting him at ease and on edge in equal measure. Which, he supposed, just put him back where he started.
Still, the Lord got one thing wrong. He came here from Straithmoor, not straight from Buscon; maybe it meant nothing, but it did give Kyreth some hope that word of his…
involvement in Straithmoor hadn’t gotten all the way to Soft Haven yet.
“Thank you, but I’m fine,” he refused the offer politely, if a little tightly, casting his eyes somewhere on the carpet. He gripped the contents of his pockets. With his luck, a guard - or that woman - would burst in the door the second he laid a finger on that nice, expensive glassware.
“Oh, uh-- my… lord?” he added quickly, the thought of Vivian bringing her threat about disrespect back into sharp relief.
Best to move on. Not that the prospect of regaling his journey was much more attractive.
“I’m sure a lot of your workers come looking for a fresh start…” he stated noncommittally, focusing on a rug tassel that was flipped upwards. One advantage of having Tainted eyes was that it was a bit more difficult to tell what one was looking at, and he needed a moment to think. Whatever lie he was going to have to spin to get out of this needed to be solid; he’d hate to get Lilann in trouble along with him.
“True. This enterprise offers a high degree of animosity for a reasonable pay. I can appreciate its appeal.” Lord Mystralath agreed easily, ignoring the brief stumble in favor of Kyreth’s noncommittal response.
“I have no interest in prying into your background, unless you present yourself as a hardened criminal with a penchant for the disturbing. I may have a few thoughts on the matter then but if Cerric hasn’t escorted you off the property and Aleka only has a single misgiving, I trust you are a credible person.” The Lord tapped a large blank spot in the book in front of him.
“My apologies, I did not intend to cause concern, only offer an opportunity to relax before we addressed my concerns but for that, I’ll need you to stop admiring my office and raise your head. I’ll be more than glad to offer you a look around if our conversation reaches a mutually beneficial agreement.” The Lord nodded his approval as Kyreth compiled before reaching a gloved hand out, palm up. A murmured word and a rush of aether in the room followed before four candle sized flames appeared above his palm, dancing in a lazy circle like will-o-wisps. Lord Mystralath hummed, satisfied with what he saw.
“Tell me, Kyreth. Do you know what an aetherborn is? There are a hundred hundred stories of their potential, of their abilities great and terrible, of their ambition, greed, and selflessness in equal measure. Aetherborn are romanticized and villainized in equal measure. They are often living legends, even if they’ve done nothing with their power.” The Lord closed his palm, the flames vanishing, as he spoke.
“But the truth of the matter is that aetherborn serve a purpose in the grand cosmos far more important than any sage of our era can possibly comprehend. Even I, who has dedicated my life to delving into the ancients’ understanding of aetherborn, barely have seen a fraction of our potential and purpose. We are burdened with a gift worthy of gods with all the flaws of mortality, which makes us dangerous to others and ourselves when we do not have control and understanding of ourselves.”“Considering this, do you see why I am concerned about you, Kyreth?” Lord Mystralath asked, leaning forward and propping his chin on steepled hands.
Kyreth’s heart jumped a little when the Lord asked him to raise his eyes, but he complied, unwilling to give the man any more reason to dislike him than his presence already invited. But he couldn’t ignore the shiver crawling up his spine when his eyes met the Lord’s porcelain gaze.
He was even more discomforted, though, when little flames materialized in the Lord’s palm. Kyreth’s eyes were drawn to the fire in uncomfortably familiar fashion, watching unblinking as the little flames danced. Was Mystralath playing dumb? Did he know Kyreth’s history, and this was his way of teasing him? Kyreth backed up a step, eyes locked on the fire. Open flames were… risky. He didn’t appreciate how they made a giddy energy rise in his chest - or they way they got so easily out of control.
For a mercy, the flames were soon snuffed out, and Kyreth could breathe again. But by the time he came out of his trance, the Lord had launched into a speech about the
aetherborn, of all things. A demonstration, then, but why? Kyreth knew passing little about aetherborn - certainly not enough to draw any real meaning from the Lord’s flowery words. If it was aetherborn Mystralath was worried about, why did call up the only person in the lobby who wasn’t one? No - there was something else going on.
“I… I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” Kyreth answered suspiciously, resisting the urge to turn away. Mystralath’s voice was soft and even, but this line of questioning felt dangerous. He was suddenly very conscious of the lamps on the walls, their formerly soft glow getting sharper as the flames within started to grow. That buzzing feeling he’d been enduring all morning was back with a vengeance, skin tingling with something bordering disturbingly between fear and excitement.
“Okay, okay,” Kyreth finally blurted out, pulling his hands out defensively. He resolved to take the loss - this charade clearly wasn’t working, and it needed to come to an end. His fingers twitched.
“Listen, uh, my Lord-- If you don’t want me here, I’ll go. Okay? No problem. You’ll never know I was here. Just don’t kick Lilann out - she has nothing to do with this, I promise.”Lord Mystralath only shook his head, letting out an amused huff.
“That is one way to answer my question. I don’t imagine you’d dare wrestle my own flames from me otherwise.” A dismissive gesture at the lamps and the command to settle had them dimming to their original gentleness once more.
“And it is quite the opposite, Kyreth. I would much prefer you remain here, though that decision will be up to you once you understand the implications of such an action. Regardless, your traveling companion will be treated as her own person. The Bounty House will not penalize her for your mistakes.”“You are an aetherborn, Kyreth Bertasson, and your ignorance is dangerous. Have you ever looked in a mirror, or a window, or even a still pool of water and caught your reflection? Perhaps Buscon’s aetheric density wasn’t strong enough to eclipse the light of day but I can assure you, normal mortals do not have glowing spots on their face. All aetherborn have an abnormality that marks them as one and you are no different. Cerric boasts an additional digit on each hand and foot, Aeowyn’s eyes glow with amethyst light,” He flipped pages, going through each of the people he entered with.
“Ceolfric’s tongue is strangely colored, Elia’s eyes change color, Ermes’ has shadows for hair, your companion seems to glow to some degree, and your freckles shine in relation to aetheric density. You are one, there is no denying it.” Lord Mystralath made a note in Kyreth’s page, dried the ink, and shut the book with a heavy thud. He pushed it to the side as he leaned forward once more.
“From your unintended demonstration, we share an affinity. We command the greatest gift, and the greatest curse, of the mortal races. Fire, when controlled and guided, brings warmth, light, and the power of creation to our fingertips. We forge weapons, armor, technologies that have improved the races and permitted us to prosper beyond the common animals. But should those flames be left unchecked, forest fall, cities burn, and mortals die in ashen graves.” Mystralath paused, considering Kyreth carefully before he continued.
“Aetherborn who command elemental power are known as Primordial aetherborn. Ours is instinctive and reactive, our emotional state intrinsically tied to our ability. Fear, sorrow, joy… all in uncontrolled excess can find our abilities slipping from our fragile control without the proper training. I’m sure you’ve experienced that: fires roaring to life in unexpected places, candles and fireplaces surging or waning without warning. Even here, your concern fed the flames in this room. Had it gone unchecked, you and I may not be alive to have this conversation right now. Do you understand now, Kyreth?”The Lord’s words hit Kyreth like a sack of nails; his brow furrowed, hands pawing at the thick fabric of his cloak to find the iron crescent of Selene on his chest. There was no way what Mystralath said was true. It couldn't be! Aetherborn didn't pop up in the Dregs, they kept to their grand schools and ivory towers - they got whisked away as soon as anyone even suspected them, didn't they? And besides, wasn't being aetherborn supposed to be some gift from Aziaza? She hated his kind, no way she'd grace one of them with the power and prestige the aetherborn were blessed with. They wouldn't want it anyway!
Or at least, that's what he thought before today, if he ever spared the aetherborn any thought at all. But proof otherwise was right downstairs; some little street urchin, a brigand, even Lilann - by some cosmic coincidence, they were all aetherborn. The first he'd ever seen in the flesh, for that matter. With the possible exception of himself, if Mystralath was telling the truth.
Kyreth turned sharply, searching for something reflective. He found a jar on a shelf and peered at his reflection; sure enough, his face looked like it was pockmarked with stars, his freckles and eyes glowing brightly in the darkness. Shocked, he pulled his hood down, turning his head to see the reflection of his horns. The freckles on them glowed, too. He touched them gingerly, expecting a swarm of fireflies but finding only skin. Obviously he knew he had freckles - they were the butt of many jokes back home - but they never looked like… like that! Come on, the Tainted were known for their strange features. No two looked the same, they came in every colour and every shape. He wasn't any different!
But Kyreth found it more and more difficult to deny as the Lord kept talking. Fire that fed on emotion, strange and unexpected bursts of flame… would that explain his outbursts, then? The fire at Straithmoor raged in his mind, and others before it: the time as a child that his clothes caught fire and he had to jump into the harbour, singing an outsider who kicked him from his path, a bully’s hair lighting up in the middle of a scuffle… All his life, he thought his little “accidents” were a curse, a mark of his kind’s unholy union with the dragons all those centuries ago. Was it really him being aetherborn all along?
Kyreth backed away from the shelf, pulling his hood back up over his horns. Lord Mystralath’s words rang too true to deny it. He was aetherborn; the violent, unpredictable power he had that made flames spring to life was magic all along. A “primordial aetherborn.” But that didn't change much when he thought about it. In a way, he'd been right all along - this wasn't a gift from Aziaza, it was a curse. A curse that got him into trouble. That got people hurt. Mystralath said as much; he had destruction and death at his fingertips, always threatening to break loose. This was the Lady’s way of punishing him - all he wanted to do was live quietly and honestly, so she gave him the power to burn down his whole life at any moment. What a sick trick, to give a Tainted a power activated by fear.
“I see,” Kyreth finally murmured, his tail twisting with discomfort around his waist. It ached, sore from being wound up for so long, and he realized as he tried to relax it that it was holding a death grip on his abdomen this entire time. He looked back up at Mystralath.
“But… why bring me up here just to tell me that? Are you worried I'm… dangerous?” "I needed to determine the genuinity of your obliviousness. I'm glad to find you were honestly unaware of your condition; otherwise, we would be having a far less pleasant experience." Lord Mystralath sighed still.
"Yet, the fact remains you are dangerous. Untrained, your ability to separate your natural reactions to danger and your aetheric control threaten every person, every home, every life you cross. That includes your own.""I am aware your kind suffers a great deal of social prejudice and while I harbor no ill will towards the Tainted myself, I cannot say the same for everyone in my employ. Any situation you become targeted in runs the risk of an outbreak and the longer this outbreak takes, the worse it will be. As a noble of Finnagund, you are now a threat I am obligated to handle. So the question becomes how do I handle you?" Lord Mystralath drummed his fingers on the desk as he spoke.
“I have two solutions that come to me immediately but what are your thoughts, Kyreth? This is your future we’re discussing, after all.”Kyreth nodded grimly, clutching his crescent under his cloak. Really, it was just a confirmation of something he knew all along. He was dangerous. Whether or not he wanted to be, he was born with something malevolent inside him, and no matter how hard he tried to suppress it, it would always be there. Lurking under the surface. Waiting for him to slip up, let his temper loose. Just like last time.
Worse still for the moment, he was a threat that the Lord was obligated to “handle.” Those words reminded Kyreth of how dangerous this situation was, and his pulse quickened. What were
his thoughts? What did that matter!? “Ill will” or not, no Lord was taking his orders from a Tainted. The sound of his name in that refined of an accent was scary enough already, but
that sounded like an excellent way to dig his own grave.
But it was better than nothing.
“Alright, you've made yourself very clear,” Kyreth pleaded, inching toward the door.
“I know what's going on now, I don't want any trouble; I can get out of Finnagund where I won't be your problem anymore. I can go back to--” he was about to say Relfin, but since that path would take him back through Straithmoor, that wasn't an option.
“--Somewhere, I don't know, but I assure you you'll never have to worry about me again.”“I don’t care much for that solution. See, I prefer solutions that reduce the risks significantly and that one leaves too many variables unaccounted for. What happens if someone assails you on your travels and the Snakeburrow woods burn for your inexperience? What if you find a resting place near fields and a nightmare brings a lapse of control? What happens if your self loathing turns this power in on yourself?” He asked seriously.
“Letting you quit this place means blood will be on my hands, be it yours or another’s. So in my eyes, I can only see two feasible, safe, and responsible approaches.” He held up a finger.
“The first is you attempt to escape and before you cross the threshold, jump out a window, or attempt to knock me unconscious, I reduce you to a pile of ash from the inside out. It will be agonizing for only a few short moments but you are no longer a threat to yourself or anyone around you with only my poor rugs as collateral damage.” Mystralath shrugged as he explained.
“I doubt any would mourn you and those who came asking questions would understand why such drastic measures had to be taken, if they did not praise me outright for acting with such conviction and mercy. I assure you, I would take no pleasure in this but I would feel neither guilt nor remorse as Vivian swept your remains out of my office.”He held up the second finger.
“The second option falls in line with your original interests. Aleka marked you as interested in a contract job and it is within my power to offer you one as my apprentice. You’d receive a monthly stipend, lodging, food, clothing, an education, and training in all things ranging from statesmanship to aetheric manipulation and I’d have someone to alleviate my workload. This seems a much more pleasant arrangement than the first, no?”Kyreth openly grimaced, showing off a rarely-seen mouthful of pointed teeth. He didn’t bother to hide his terror anymore, not that he ever succeeded in the first place. But by Moon’s Light, had Mystralath spent some time in Buscon when he was younger? It had the delicate refinement of nobility, but the substance of that threat could have come straight from the aftermath of a bar fight in the Dregs.
The offer, however, was even more staggering. He was awed enough at the prospect of an apprenticeship when the trade was going to be thatcher or coffin builder, and now this! He ran a hand under his hood, fingers twisting through his damp mass of uneven hair as he let his weight fall against the wall at his back.
“You’ve made your point,” Kyreth replied, very much in a daze. He stared somewhere in the middle distance for a moment, trying and failing to scrape a coherent thought together. All he could muster through the fuzz of his brain were far-off, unbelievable words like “statesmanship” and “aetherial manipulation” - nothing at all that made any sense offering to the likes of him.
“Is this a trick..?” he murmured to himself, brow furrowing as he let his hand fall. He fully expected a guard to burst through the door any moment, laughing at the Lord’s marvelous performance as he clapped Kyreth in irons, never to be seen again. But moments passed, and no guard came; the room was still, but for the flicker of the lights and the soft clinking of the Lord’s fine costume.
“But… why?” came his answer at long last, falling out of him on a breath almost as if by accident. His eyes finally came back into focus, examining the Lord’s porcelain mask for any hint of his motives. He found none.
“Why me? You’ll be ruined.”"Ruined? Absurd! You either think far too highly of yourself or far too lowly of me. Taking a Tainted apprentice is likely one of the tamest things I've done in my life." Mystralath laughed.
"Tis true I am considered an eccentric even in my own family but the Mystralaths are not overly concerned with race nor creed nor background. Those gifted with aetheric ability are charged with the duty of advancing our knowledge through study, experimentation, and practice. Those bereft of such talent are given the solemn duty of allowing us privacy and protection so that we may do so without interruption or scrutiny. My family is an experienced hand at navigating the unusual and dangerous. Publicly, you'll be written off as little more than an object of study, an experiment, a fleeting whimsy at worst. All the while, you'll receive the full benefits of our resources and knowledge safely away from the public eye until you prove yourself ready to carry the Mystralath legacy. But we'll cross that bridge if we reach it."Mystralath paused as he continued to drum on the table, considering before he answered the question.
“Taking you as an apprentice solves a problem. My family has been bothering me to take a formal apprenticeship since the beginning of the year. I have supported and guided a number of students and family members but I never found the spark of curiosity in them that I hold myself. Certainly they were interested in growing their skills, ambitious, driven, but there was always a wall holding them back they could never quite scale. Promising but never strong enough to escape their families, social expectations, material pleasures, the list goes on. They lacked dedication, their cushioned lives blinding them to possibilities.” His tone, even and light before, grew more excitable, more passionate, darker.
“You, however, aren’t cut from the same cloth. You present an entirely new experience for me to mold and shape and grow, ideally succeeding where others have fallen short of even my most basic expectations. Plus, accepting you as a pupil satisfies my family and they’ll finally stop sending me passive aggressive notes and setting up meetings with every charlatan in Finnagund.”“And how could I pass up an opportunity to mentor someone who shares my own affinity, dropped into my lap like a gift from Lady Azaiza herself. I feel like I’d be denying fate not to offer you the opportunity.”As Mystralath spoke, Kyreth pulled his hood down, all sense of propriety gone in the face of his incomprehensible circumstances. The room felt like it was spinning, the glinting of firelight on the room’s accouterments like stars in a vast, dark cosmos. His tail, sore and exhausted from clinging to his ribs all day, slithered out from under his shirt and fell limp, its tip resting on the floor like a lifeless length of rope. In the back of his mind, Kyreth noticed that the freckles at the end of his tail were also glowing.
He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The Lord spoke so casually, as if something as life changing as an apprenticeship under a Lord of Othard was little more than a common chore. Or perhaps, a pet project. But for all Mystralath’s new, foreboding enthusiasm, he still sounded more like someone who’d finally found an exciting book to read than a man proposing to turn a Tainted boy’s life around beyond his wildest imaginings.
While the words “object of study” and “experiment” didn’t sit especially well with Kyreth, he was smarter than to look a gift horse in the mouth - especially when said horse was his only way out of a fiery death. He dared not even begin to let himself think this could possibly work out, but went along with it anyway. If he was to be a noble’s passing curiosity, he only hoped the Lord wouldn’t lose interest in him too quickly.
But for all his misgivings, Mystralath’s mention of fate stuck in his mind. His Crescent of Selene felt heavy on his chest. Was this in Her plan, too? Is that why she brought him here? Maybe he should be more open to the possibility - after all, Selene could only help those who deigned to take Her proffered hand. Hadn’t he spent all morning telling himself to leave his old doubts behind and trust in Her guidance? His old ways had kept him alive up to this point, but they also kept him and so many others chained to their suspicious, guarded way of life, treating any opportunity like a trap only to trap themselves in dishonesty and sin. It was terrifying to let his guard down, but maybe it was the only way he could ever move forward. For all Selene had done for him, he owed it to Her to follow the path She laid out for him.
“I see,” Kyreth finally answered. He was conflicted, but he pushed through it.
“So then… what do I need to do?”“Normally, I’d have a contract prepared and ready for review but as this is impromptu, we’ll need some time before this becomes official. In the meantime, we need to see about your supplies. Do you have more than what you are carrying?” The Lord pulled out parchment and wrote in small, tight letters as he spoke. He looked up when he heard no response, nodding as Kyreth shook his head.
“Very well, then that is where we start. Although the quality isn’t quite what I prefer, Six Spools in Soft Haven can make you something sensible for travel until we can go to Wilree and find you something more suitable. A couple of tunics, breeches, a winter cloak since you already have a summer one, and I haven’t had the opportunity to inspect the quality of any Soft Haven cobblers but beggars can’t be choosers on such short notice, I suppose.”“As for lodging, you may stay here unless you have other accommodations. Once you’ve returned from the errands you’ll be running today, I’ll have Vivian show you your room. I’m quite fascinated by the normal “adventure’s” lifestyle so please don’t mind the others that may come and go. We rent the rooms out to some of the other mercenaries in the House. They’re an energetic group but entertaining nonetheless.” He put the letter aside for a moment.
“On the subject of your education however, have you had any? Do you know your letters and numbers at the very least?”Kyreth’s eyebrows floated up as Lord Mystralath rattled off a shopping list. By the Lord’s prior fervor on the topic of molding him into some model aetherborn, Kyreth expected the first step to be some kind of blood ritual, not a new wardrobe. Then it was on to lodging, and the mental image of Vivian welcoming him into anything other than a casket might have been funny if it wasn’t going to be true. Kyreth couldn’t even imagine the cost of everything Mystralath was writing down, but even his conservative estimate rose to dizzying heights only a few items in. How many shopkeeps would even let him cross the threshold?
The Lord asked about his education, and all he had to offer was a meek shake of the head.
“I can count coins and read signs, but… not much beyond that,” he offered, hands finding his pockets once again. He could hold all his worldly possessions in the palms of his hands - suddenly, that felt so
small.“A private tutor as well, then.” Mystralath muttered to himself at the response. He picked up his quill again and wrote anew on another sheet.
“But that will be a longer process. For now, there are some errands I was going to send one of the servants on but this will serve as a gentle introduction to the town for you. I’ll send with you a letter to the Six Spools vouching for your identity, have them begin working on suitable clothes for you, and you can fetch the items I commissioned in town upon your return.” He folded the set aside letter neatly, melting wax and sealing it with a signet ring on his hand.
“I am expecting a dagger from Red Mane forge, three vials of goldenseal salve and 10 ounces of of powdered boswellia from the Hawthorne Apothecary, and a bottle of Sapphire Ambrosia from the White Lion. All of it is paid in full, you simply need to offer them this as proof,” Lord Mystralath pulled off his signet ring and offered it to Kyreth,
“And they should release the product. Can you remember all this or do you need a list?”It was a little embarrassing, but at least his lack of education didn’t seem like a deal breaker. But errands?
That was something Kyreth could do, even if the laundry list this time was significantly more exotic than he was used to.
“Oh, um…” Kyreth rubbed the back of his neck, thinking. Red Manes were cut with daggers, Hawthorne cures gold seal with salve and powdered bones well, and the White Lion drinks Sapphire Ambrosia… He nodded.
“I think I’ve got it.”The list would be okay, but then the Lord offered his signet ring, and that reeked of
problem; he was suddenly reminded of Vivians comment about his supposed “sticky fingers.” He looked between the ring and the Lord’s mask suspiciously, caution written all over his face.
“What if they think I stole it?”"None in the House will accuse you of that. As for the good people of Soft Haven, well…"Mystralath shrugged.
"You will need to overcome more than false accusations and persecution as a Tainted Aetherborn. I've given you all the resources to succeed with little trouble in this endeavor. It's your task to solve the issue. As this is your first challenge as my apprentice, I will offer you a bit of advice. My commissions are your saving grace. Complete them in the proper order and while I would not suggest you'll be warmly received, you'll elicit far less suspicion. I trust you can handle that much.”Kyreth considered the Lord’s words. At least he was under no illusions about the nature of the task he assigned, but he still seemed a little more confident than he probably should be. But hey, this was his town; maybe he knew something Kyreth didn’t.
“...Understood.” Though he maintained his misgivings, Kyreth finally approached and accepted the letter and ring, the latter feeling like a priceless jewel in his hands in a way he absolutely did not like. He tucked them safely away in his shirt pocket, sewn extra deep for this very purpose. He could feel both items press against his chest; more difficult to steal that way.
He trailed his hand over the imprint of his Crescent, offering a quick, silent prayer that the letter and ring would stay where he put them. Satisfied, he looked to Mystralath expectantly.
“Is… that all?”"For now. We will touch on appropriate terms of address later and I will have your first aetheric exercises prepared upon your return. I will need some time to develop a curriculum but that is not for you to worry about immediately. Unless you have any further productive questions, return this to Aleka and complete the tasks I have set for you." Mystralath pushed the heavy book to the side of his desk for Kyreth to grab.
Kyreth nodded. He had about a million questions, mostly about whether that maid actually knocked him unconscious when she came to fetch him and if this was all just a concussion-fueled fever dream, but he doubted those qualified as “productive.” He supposed he’d find out soon enough if this was all a big elaborate trick if an army of guards were waiting outside the door for the Tainted who stole the Lord’s signet ring, so in the meantime, the best option he had to him was to assume this was real and hope he didn’t come to in a dungeon somewhere missing a few fingers and an eye.
Or maybe he was already dead and this was Aziaza’s way of tormenting him, showing him this incredible opportunity only to leave him wondering when the illusion would be shattered. Well, it was working, but there wasn’t much he could do about that, either.
Mind made up, Kyreth took Aleka’s book, surprised by the weight of it, and hugged it to his chest, securing it like it was worth its weight in gold. To him, it was.
“Um…” he murmured awkwardly, pulling his hood back over his head as he tried to think of some intelligent way to express his gratitude. When he came up with nothing, he settled for
“Thank you,” and took his leave in a hurry, closing the door firmly behind him before he finally let himself collapse against it.
1x Laugh
