Epsir

When the Flames Die

Wallace flinched at the touch, and it became immediately apparent how little of the aging man remained underneath his encompassing blue jacket. His figure was defined primarily by the amount of books and parchment on his person. Surprised as he was, he couldn't find it in himself to be displeased as his eyes fell from the sky back to Gareth. The man looked something tragic and more than anything it was the eyes. In them, Wallace saw a despair truly familiar, he'd looked upon it first as a younger man standing over a mirror and now remembered the sight of it, every day, in their faces. No matter how he tried to look upon Gareth he kept seeing the child he'd failed. Disgust welled within him at the realization that only two days in he'd gone soft and nearly lost his resolve. He couldn't allow Lexine's death and a chance memory to interrupt him. He smiled at Gareth in return, "Don't be," he said, pausing as unsureness swept him and he felt unable to follow the hollow remark. "I appreciate what you're doing, for the palace. The realm will appreciate it when the truth comes to light. Ultimately, we will need more people like you, looking for the truth, before that goal can be fully realized, but for now I fear we must not be too bold in looking for them." His eyes shifted from the Great Hall to the Tower of the Thistle as he spoke.

Uldor, Land of Glory. (High Fantasy)

Rarden descended on the ropes with the kind of precision only possible by a man desperately attempting to ignore his captain's charades on the deck. The man knelt down and ran the rope through one of the foremost cleats on the deck, knotting the shipside end with a sloppy cleat hitch. Just like dad used to make, he remarked in his mind, missing the cuisine the phrase was usually attributed to and blessing what nautical know-how he'd gleaned from the old man. They'd need four of these but he wondered if they had enough rope for it. In the event they didn't, securing simply the bow and stern would be sufficient for a short time stay. But if the waves got rough... he suspended his considerations to return to his job. Mooring cable in hand, he skipped the short distance from the rail to the pier and began to secure their small vessel around the nearest bollard. As he did so, he noticed for the first time the imposing looking man that had ventured down to meet their ship. The smile on his face immediately put his mind at ease. No doubt a customs officer of some sort, he figured the man's business would be solely with the captain. Rarden gave the man a polite nod of the head and a "G'day to you," before sailing back over the ship's rail to grab up yet more rope and repeat his routine at the other mooring cleats.

Uldor, Land of Glory. (High Fantasy)

Rarden grimaced at his friend's choice of name. No matter how many times he rehearsed it to himself, it was still Louis that he looked at and Louis that he respected. Caesar would need time to grow in his mind, and it seemed more than the time it took for them to travel. For being surrounded by beautiful, cleansing water, the ship and its inhabitants felt to him more and more grimy each day. The sight of Wortgott on the horizon had been a relief, a blessing, and a bolster. They had did it, they'd come out on top with not just their lives but everything that had been at stake. The new world's threshold had gone on for longer than he could have ever known sitting in that dock back home, but even if the wood beneath his feet was struck away by chance that instant he was still too close to the end to fail. "Aye aye, sir," he responded, eyes fixed on the city and nowhere else. He wondered about the people they would meet, how they would view them, and the risks they'd bring. It was overwhelming, it was so far removed from his life of means that he had no idea where to begin. Whatever it was, the group would have a plan.

When the Flames Die

Canti was also content to stand in silence, waiting and listening in the peaceful, lonely courtyard. Every few seconds, the strike of a hammer against steel broke the spell, signalling the continuation of the repair efforts around the palace. With each shriek of metal on metal, he was told of the passing of time. It was different, and difficult, to sit on the other side of the curtain and know that with each beat of his heart it was not his own machinations that turned the palace, but someone else's. Slowly, his eyes crept up to the sky, to watch the clouds mock him further with their own passing. Investigating was not a mere cover or disguise for him, it was something he had to do in the position he'd been put in. Losing control had always been part of the dare, but not this way. Gareth's question, intentional or no, struck home as quickly as it cut the silence. Wallace said the only thing he could, "We have a few days before Arcartus responds. We have until tonight for Feril Tatchet. Nothing else is certain." He went on, his voice solemn, "Whatever the Arcarti response is, it will complicate things, but hopefully there will be answers before that time comes."

Uldor, Land of Glory. (High Fantasy)

Rarden looked away, cradling his face in his hand as their compatriot appeared bearing alcohol. He was still smirking, though. These were the antics he'd practically grown up around and at this point he was desensitized enough to enjoy the trio's misadventures with a bit of good humor alongside the fear-wrought knots in his stomach that the two were particularly talented at generating. Maybe it was that good humor, or the genuine awe felt standing at the cusp of a new life, but more than worry he felt utter excitement as Louis withdrew the gangplank and took his place at the helm. A feeling he only felt around these two, the realization that for now at least, the results did not matter because the journey was the true reward. Silently, he obeyed the call to sail and raced forward to find and hoist the main's halyard. The preparations for sailing were many, hopefully they'd find it in themselves to coast away from the dock and orient. As, line and knot after line and knot the sails came unfurled and were trimmed to catch the wind, he watched and worked with no small measure of pride.

When the Flames Die

Wallace nodded along, committing Gareth's assessment to memory and finding himself enthused with its relevance to both parties. For the short period of time he'd known Gareth to be present in the palace, he'd developed quite the opinion of Thomas. At first he speculated that the two had prior history, which seemed downright impossible, but the youth's final statement narrowed the plausible explanations. What the other man was actually getting at flew slightly over the distracted plotter's head, but he understood full well what it was to put faith and more in a person and have it dashed away. "That's a bitter part of life, but one that everyone must become accustomed to. People are never what they seem." One of the few memories he held that he still found genuinely saddening was of the faith he'd placed in this very administration. His footfalls stopped, and he looked up at the palace proper as if admiring the lavish masonry. As it had when he first arrived and now more than ever, it reminded him of a mausoleum. "Flawed and ugly things are the standard by which we derive beauty. That's some poor man's philosophy but it's shockingly appropriate for dealing in politics. Everything has a value of its own. Sir Thomas knows the same, and we will know how he chooses to interpret the rule by how he chooses to treat Feril Tatchet."

Uldor, Land of Glory. (High Fantasy)

He was sure that the beam was inordinate for blue water sailing. They were a wide ship and with the limited quantity of sail board they'd be cutting too much drag. He worried, though perhaps just worried as he looked upon the under-deck portion of the main mast, that a stiff wind would break the mast for want of being able to capsize the stable vessel. Their speed mattered, but only the in its capacity to get them out of trouble spots. Rarden could not begin to panic about their travel time or what provisions they had when the task of keeping a boat alive with such a skeleton crew was what they faced. The worst case scenario would be ending up dead in the water, they could avoid that because of the amount of islands they'd be near in the trial phase of their journey. That sole fact was his controlling solace as he paced aboard the interior, triple checking that everything he had prescribed had been brought aboard and stored properly, typically by his hand. Not so much satisfied as accepting, he arose through the deck hatch and searched briefly for the captain, who seemed content to pose on the deck. "We're ready to embark whenever Fitch shows up, Louis," he said, presenting a lackluster salute that was the only imitation of his father's he could manage.

When the Flames Die

Wallace considered the other man's questions for a long, silent while the two approached the door to the Tower of the Thistle. From his position, it would be damning to deny the truth at this juncture and it could do little harm anyway. "Feril is a courier who had the misfortune of delivering a package that was sent to this castle but without a recipient. It found its way into someone's hands by chance, and they, for whatever nefarious reason, split the parcel in two. The box went to the king, and he seems to have retained it as it has not resurfaced since. Morgan either knows this, or he detained her just because she's a courier. Whatever the case, he knows that I know now. And, so do you." Again, he unlocked the door to the tower and returned to the daylight outside. The palace grounds had grown still after the morning bustle, the guards were mostly occupied with patrolling the walls and interiors at this point. Only a skeleton crew of workers stood by the gates attempting to restore them to active service. "As for my personal assessment of Thomas, I feel he's a good man. He's someone that people can depend upon and I am simply on a road that places us in conflict. In that regard, he is dangerous and no doubt cruel, but I have a use for that sort of person." The nature of the second question awoke a curiosity in him, and he realized that his assessment of the change in atmosphere when Thomas arrived had been at least partially correct. "But what about you? Sir Thomas is certainly an enigmatic man, I'm curious to hear what you think of him."

When the Flames Die

Wallace shook his head as Thomas turned away. He hadn't even gotten a straight answer from the man, but he said all that he could have. Although it was merely buying into the gossip around the castle, he did wonder exactly how safe being released was going to be for the young Feril. Not out of any concern for the girl, she'd just been the person picked to send a letter, but the treatment of someone only caught in the middle would tell him something about how Thomas intended to conduct himself. As the knight disappeared into the Tower, Canti turned away, chuckling to himself. "Mister Harker, you're quite the judge of character," he said. "but you have found your way into an exceedingly ugly palace." He shook his head, turning to look towards the exit. "Our little excursion has been educational. I am ready to say that there are, at the very least, no madmen on the loose within our castle. It may even be safer. Despite the controversy surrounding Lexine, I think Thomas' tenure as Commander will prove beneficial for this country. If anything, Lexine's presence here was the aberration, and the surrounding incidents are what demand consideration and scrutiny." It took a concerted effort to say it with a straight face, it was something that wouldn't have survived a court room, but given what they'd just seen, he felt it sounded credible enough.

When the Flames Die

"Actually, Sir Thomas, if you would just a moment I would like to ask a question," Wallace turned to follow Thomas and froze when he spoke, knowing full well the gangplank down which he was walking. His stomach had tied itself in knots, and even where he stood he felt the rough wood of the guillotine around his neck. Then more than ever he realized his incredible luck in bringing along Gareth, the advantage the young squire was even if for the moment he was only a witness. He could proceed with impunity, even if it was playing his hand. "This morning you arrested Feril Tatchet. She is an innocent courier, I am curious to know what her involvement with this entire affair is." He said, nodding his head and grinning at Thomas. Of course, it meant that he knew Feril Tatchet and was perhaps involved with her plight, but the actual contents of her parcel were likely lost to the darkness at this point. A third, unseen party, an Arcarti ironically, had opened that letter and received their warning, and as yet he'd not seen it resurface.