MQ: Unconventional Tactics

If anyone knew the Villeneuves, they would not have recognized any of them at this point. That was what they loved about their lives.

“What do we know?” Esme Villeneuve, now known to the Lady General of Raiaera as Elunice Velenith, was clad in ornate Bladesinger armor. His azure eyes were an epitome of ease. He ran his left hand through his neatly cut blonde hair while his right hand spun his circular buckler shield on the long table. It was his habit to fidget with things. Today, however, it was a truly nervous reaction. Even though Nalith had seen him in another form he had a haunting feeling that she would recognize him. Therefore he kept his head down and his attention elsewhere as she spoke.

“We know that the Necromancer’s army is vast, but the generals he can trust are far and few between thanks to Striker.” Nalith Celiniel said with her arms crossed. “His ancient history has left him somewhat paranoid. He would never grant one of his Death Lords more than he could overthrow himself. That is why Cara Skye, also known as the Lady of Death, has no more than two thousand undead under her command. She has little to no aerial assistance, which has kept us from being found. Unfortunately our intelligence indicates that the majority of her forces are high quality. They are all revived warriors with independent thought and centuries of experience on the field.”

“And she has just been the most dimwitted of pursuers, correct?” Alix Villeneuve, working under the alias of Arinotail Velenith, floated across the room. Out of all the Villeneuves, she may have been the most recognizable, retaining her auburn hair and her smooth gait as she walked across the giant map of Raiaera. The stage of war covered the entire wall behind Nalith.

“She has captured or killed several recon teams in the past month, and her own scouts have come quite close. A handful of our bravest have willingly sacrificed their lives acting as a distraction when she got close. The question is…” Nalith said as she placed her hands on the table. “Will they remember our location when they’re made undead servants?”

“That is a good question. Those poor souls…” Maelle Villeneuve said as she shook her head and tossed her curly golden hair. Her indigo eyes exuded a somber gaze upon the giant map as she imagined the suffering those otherwise sentient patriots of Raiaera’s past must have been going through. The young woman known as Mira Velenith wanted to kill each and every one of the soldiers in Cara Skye’s army. She genuinely wanted to end their suffering for some part of them had to know that they were betraying their homeland.

“We’ll kill each and every one of them.” Ludivine Villeneuve said with a crooked smile on her face. Only one of her cerulean eyes could be seen for the other was covered by her straight platinum hair. The brutal assassin known as Lilith Verenith wanted to kill Cara’s army for a different reason all together. The shadow dwelling High Elf took pleasure in being the harbinger of death and scandal.

“Do what you may with what we will have here. Elunice, I will charge you with the task of gathering a defense force. Remember that your primary objective is the preservation of the city.” Nalith gave a nasty look to Ludivine, only to be met with a mirrored reaction. “Take the battle to her only if necessary... Victrolis, you have been rather quiet. Is there something you would like to divulge?”

“No, Lady General,” Vespasian Villeneuve said as he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his Bladesinger's armor. His azure eyes peered off into the depths of his mind. His siblings and parents could only imagine exactly what was going on in there, but they could deduce that he was creating a grand solution to the problem that was Cara Skye. They each knew how they as individuals would attempt to solve the problem, but Vespasian knew what they could do as a group, thus the youngest member of the family was ironically the mastermind. “I'm simply processing the information.”

“Very well.” Nalith said as she gathered her belongings. She allowed the family to exit the fortress villa of Tirinost. Before them stood a vast army of bright eyes and pointed ears. “We will be off then. May the stars watch over you as they already have.”

The soldiers cleared a path for the Lady General, and within minutes the army was off, leaving a clearing with only a handful of guards. The five Veleniths stood outside the iron clad fortress in a moment of silence. Esme was the first to break the silence. “That Nalith is something else, isn't she? A hero amongst commoners. We should follow her every command.”

“Absolutely.” Alix said with a nod of the head. “We should grant her every wish... But we aren't. Are we, son?”

Vespasian rubbed the back of his head. “... Not really.”

Out of Character:

Continued on from the very second How The Fires Dies and thus, Chapter 1 ends.

The thunder in the world beyond our own was a vibrant and crackling maelstrom of infinite discovery. Few had the privilege of witnessing it alive, few further still ever got the chance to travel through it, at exceptional speed. The last words spoken by Lucian haunted Duffy’s mind as he traversed the long portal way to whatever fate awaited him. ‘You will redeem my sins by your actions afar.’

It wasn’t a very comforting thought, riddles were not a constant in the troupe master’s life he particularly enjoyed. Whatever it meant, the intent of a mad deity could never be honest, could never be worthwhile for the parties stricken with his gaeas. His nostrils reeled from a wave of sulphur, blood and damp stone, as if he’d been propelled through an ancient citadel in the depths of the earth. It faded.

He wondered what had happened to Ruby. Where had her portal taken her? Where would his take him? The thin tunnel of corroding bright blue energy bent and curved and spiralled him along and onwards. His sense of direction fell from under him, so did his will to try and fight the current. Fate had clasped it’s grubby paws around his ankles, and Destiny was dragging him headlong to an unknown chapter, an unknown chorus of life.

Wonderful… Duffy's tears pinged away from his cheeks before they had time to convalesce, mingling with the fabric of Althanas itself, lost to the endless tides of war and struggle.

---

The cold interior and brisk tenseness in the air of the ancient fortress tensed further still. Like a will-o-wisp forming and dying in the space of a single second, a small light flickered behind the line of Villeneuves. A faint circle began to appear, roughly five feet across and perfectly drawn. The air between it’s boundaries rippled and distorted into a spiralling pattern, and then it erupted.

Bright blue lightning earthed itself on the floor and shattered the stones that formed the Bladesinger’s hovel. Three claps of thunder boomed, like the footsteps of giants. A whoosh of air rocketed outwards like a sphere of disturbance through the chamber, and then a faint scream began to grow louder and louder.

Time seemed to play a very unpleasant waiting game.

The portal crackled and thundered.

The scream grew louder. Something was coming...

For a moment the Veleniths stood there and took in their surroundings. In any other environment the iron clad fortress villa of Tirinost would have been a sunlit beacon, but the thick emerald canopy of Raiaera's Great Forest cast a cooling shadow that only allowed sparse pillars of creme sunlight to shine through and waltz across the forest floor as the days went on. The air was thick with moisture and carried the scent of nature, which was easy to identify, but difficult to describe. This scene was reminiscent of a time when the Elves were wild as preached by the Wanderers.

“So, baby brother,” Ludivine said with a flip of the hair. “What's the plan.”

“Oh it's one we all know and love.” He said with a smile as he kicked a rock on the ground. “How about this. I'll allow you all to give one guess at what the plan is. If one of you guesses right, you get to pick who does what. Can we agree on that?”

The family nodded and took the time to go down a mental list of con schemes. Even though he was the most intellectually gifted, Vespasian was still the baby of the family and in many ways he was still at the bottom of the totem pole when it came to authority. He often still asked them all permission for thing, probed them for their thoughts and feelings, and went about things in a democratic fashion. He avoided taking an authoritative tone with them for at any time any one of them could speak one single statement that could strip him of his influence. Who put you in charge? would be the end of him.

“Ah!” Esme said with a finger in the air. “A Raiaeran version of the Lookie Loo scheme. It's fast and it'll keep Cara off our trail.”

“You're absolutely right, dad. It would keep her off our trail.” The ladies of the family showed signs of defeat as they threw their hands in the air and shook their heads. That was the reaction Vespasian was looking for. “But that's not the one I intended on doing. We still need to maintain a defense force of some kind, and a Lookie Loo would take all five of us away from the city. It would be too much of a gamble.”

The ladies cheered as Esme made a little punch at the air. “Aw.” He said in defeat.

“Birds of a Feather.” Maelle said with a hop of enthusiasm. “That's one of your favorites, we have a good number of people to pull it off, and if Xem'zund is as paranoid as Nalith says he is we could use that against Cara.”

“Close,” Vespasian said as he fiddled with the hooks on his armor. He didn't know how soldiers did it. That breast plate was so suffocating to him. “But that would rely on the target fearing state authorities. Our target has managed to eliminate state authorities.”

“The Draconian.” Alix said. Everyone went silent and looked at the matriarch in disbelief. “Don't do that to me. I was just being random. It's not like I was going to guess right anyways, so I thought I'd have a little fun... Sue me.”

“The Gardener of Betrayal.” Ludivine said with a crooked smile. Vespasian reacted with an ear to ear smile. The sister who knew him best proved herself once again. “Alright. This is wonderful. I get to be casting director. I will be accepting all bribes and deals for highly desired parts shortly. Chores, are of course the primary currency for winning my favor as I do not expect to have to do anything on the ship for at least a month.”

“Wait, Wait.” Maelle said as she narrowed her eyes. “Does anybody else hear screaming?”

There was indeed screaming. It was the sort of impending scream that suggested direction and approaching was involved, like a bullet proclaiming its immanent arrival. It was hard to tell what exactly was coming through the portal, but it was certain something was.

With a sphere of energy formed around it the portal rippled and spun. A faint black spot appeared at the eye of the storm, spiralling around with the same convex motion of the energy. Slowly, it appeared to grow arms, like a primordial creature pulsating in the first seas of the world. It swore in arcane languages few would ever hear again, venting it’s frustration at being transported in such an undignified manner. Confusion reigned in the creature's mind, growing to the point where it wasn't entirely sure what it was confused about, merely that it was and it intended to make everyone know about it.

In Duffy’s mind a conversation raged on between his self-doubt and his sense of certainty, his good and his bad. Both were throwing words about that had little meaning, semantics be damned, they both thought. Several accusations of ‘your mother is a’ crackled between them, retorts of witty anecdotes and scientific maladies replied all-round. “I suppose you think it’s all my fault!?” Duffy questioned himself.

“Well, you could hardly ascribe to the notion that this was forced upon you. You made the decision to enter the house.”

“Oh-oh, sure I did. It’s all come and take and send away wi’ you ain’t it! You’re like the unpleased mother I never ‘ad!” This exchange continued for sometime, serving as a momentary distraction from the sobbing and the bewilderment.

The portal wavered, grew, and wavered some more. It was now wide enough for its size to penetrate the small vacuum around it, and in a small explosion of noise, the rush of air gave its location away to anyone nearby. Three cracks of reality shattered the battered floor, arcing on the walls and burning the air. The screaming started to wobble, as if its owner was spinning, and spinning, and spinning some more. Duffy flopped out of the portal like a doe from its mother’s loins, blood spattered and covered in prismatic afterbirth.

He rolled, thudded and tumbled along the floor, taking jagged shards of tiles to the side and a heavy knock to the back of his head as he finally came to a standstill. Groggily, he sat up. The portal crackled, and died. With a sucking noise that sounded like hell itself was simply packing up to leave, the air returned to normal and all that remained to give away the portal’s presence was a rather bewildered looking Scara Brae thief, and a desperate need to call for a architect.

Duffy settled his gaze onto the backs of the line of tall people not too far in front of him. Paying little attention to his surroundings, he settled instead on trying to make his presence known. “Ermm, hello?” Emotions mingled with the sense of expectancy and supercharged the butterflies in his stomach. He reeled from the hurricane. What have I gotten myself in for this time? He scratched his had and inspected his plethora of small injuries, none of which would prove fatal or long lasting, but they certainly made a prang of attention seeking pain to remind him to tuck his knees and roll next time.

They should have all been ashamed of themselves. As spies far more skilled than the average Raiaeran Ranger, they should have caught on to the vortex of high voltage energy that seemed to spew out from the abyss of a singularity point no more than ten feet behind them. They should have heard the cry of impending impact barreling in on them long before Maelle even noticed it. They should have had their hands in on the pommel of their blades long before this point, but the only one who did was Ludivine, and that was only because she was a violent person. A deep thud on the ground compelled the family to only slightly turn their heads to see the leather clad figure out of the corner of their eyes as they each took hold of their respective weapons.

Ludivine was the first to react. She pushed off of her left foot to quickly turn about one hundred and eighty degrees to face the unknown visitor. All the while her petite steel sword emerged from the scabbard strapped across her back and left a circular blur of platinum light. Just before her signature strike dealt a fatal blow to the intruder her sword clashed in a perpendicular angle with another one of similar make causing a ring equivalent to a thousand holiday bells. It was the blade of her mother, who blatantly stood between her and her target with impenitent pride. “What did we tell you about being so zealous? I swear it’s going to get you killed one day and it’s going to cause your father and me a heart attack.”

“Speak for yourself.” Esme said with a serious face. This of course meant he was about to follow with a punch line. “It’s not really going to be a surprise when our middle child gets herself killed, so I reserve the reaction of a slow, slightly euphoric, and sometimes missed minor stroke.”

Silence dominated the atmosphere for a moment that seemed like an hour until Vespasian finally spoke up. “… I get it… But I’m not laughing.”

“Duffy?” Maelle said seemingly out of nowhere as she approached the fallen man. “Duffy Bracken, is that you?”

The lightly injured man nodded his head as he dusted himself off and stood up. Maelle clapped as she jumped up and down. She, as the girfter of the group could appreciate it when she was in the company of someone like the leader of the Tantalum theater company. She felt a bond with performers like him, for what was a confidence woman like her but an actress using the world as a stage? She ran to Ludivine and snatched her into the corner. “I need to be the gardener, and he needs to be my green thumb!”

“Did it occur to you that I may want to be the gardener this time around?” Ludivine said as she carefully sheathed her blade. All the while Vespasian and Esme were inspecting the actor.

“Do you want this mission to go smoothly or not? Besides your only method of conning is seduction, and Cara’s a girl…” Maelle put her hands on her hips and her eyebrows shot to the sky. “Are you into chicks now? Do I need to tell all our friends to lock their doors at night?”

“No!” Ludivine said with a serious face. It quickly turned to a devious smile. “Well a little, but that’s not the point. Make me an offer.”

“Fine. I’ll do the sail work for a week.”

“Why would I give up a chore that allows me to swing from ship’s ropes like a chimp out of Dheathain?” Maelle began to open her mouth to answer, but Ludivine stopped her. “Don’t answer that. You could sell Survani sand in Fallien. Just offer another chore.”

“Damn.” Maelle mumbled as she crossed her arms. She stared into the distance, running down a mental list of the chores the family had to endure for the upkeep of their ship and home, The International. “I’ll mop the main deck… for a month.”

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen. We have our roles.” Ludivine said as she turned to the family. “The game is the Gardener of Betrayal. Vespasian and Father will be the Rain Makers, Mother and I will be the Tillers, Maelle will be the Gardener and Ducky Backend will be the Green Thumb.”

“It’s… It’s Duffy Bracken.” Vespasian said. “Duffy Bracken’s his name.”

“Right.” Ludivine said with a nod and a serious face. “Dudly Blackhand… Whatever. He’s here; he’s queer, as all actors are, so we’d might as well use him. Do you have a problem with that, Dudnee?”

Duffy looked a little confused. It wasn’t an unusual look for him, he wore the slight curl of the lip and rabbit in headlamp look well, he just wished it would go away. A girl helped him up, addressing him by his real name and whilst he patted himself down and straightened his attire he considered the distinct possibility Lucian had intended this all along. Who was she? She doesn’t look familiar…

Examining his surroundings for a brief second, he decided that he was non the wiser as to where he was, and there was no use in trying to guess. It wasn’t Scara Brae architecture, and it certainly didn’t smell like Radasanth. Fresh thoughts of what had transpired on the other side of the now faded portal still bounded around his empty skull, but he pushed them aside to deal with the new and present danger; a wall of elven swords.

They bickered amongst themselves, little quips and stabs in the dark with sarcastic steel. This amused the theatre performer greatly, there was a sense of the theatrical about them, something clandestine yet spurious, something common yet rare. For a moment he almost forgot that they seemed to know who he was. In a way, this grounded his flights of fancy. It meant he was still on Althanas, and they’d evidently been to Scara Brae at some point…perhaps they could help him get home.

“I…I ‘ate to be the one to ask…but where in the blazes am I? I mean, go ‘offerin’ up the gods and dealings to me all ye like, but I ain’t sayin’ nothing’ till I know where it is I’m at!” He bowed, for some reason, coming over all coy and bedazzled by their regality. “Woss’more, how d’you know me name?”

As he waited for their deliverance, the thief kicked aside a few loose chunks of stone, kicked up by his arrival. In his self deployed shyness he mused on the events that had lead him here once more. It looked like he would have to earn his passage back to the city, and when he was desperate, things usually got worse.

Vespasian was always amused by the dealings of these outsiders. They never really understood that they were in a situation with this group of people whether they liked it or not. Either Maelle would said mark into working with them, Vespasian himself would black male them, or Ludivine would threaten to kill them. None of this was the Villeneuves offering Duffy Bracken a membership into their elite rank. Duffy Bracken really didn't have a choice, but if anyone had told him that then he would have had a choice.

“Well that would be for me to answer.” Maelle stated as the rest of the family nodded in agreement. Her unique education in applied psychology gave her the necessary communication skills to win over the most abrasive of persons. When Duffy bowed, she slightly mimicked the gesture, and as he spoke she began to observe and match his tonality. These subtle synchronizations would hopefully trigger some primal switch in the back of his mind that said 'this creature is like me, so I should align with it for survival.' A splash of sincere flattery would help push that process along. “I've seen your plays in Scara Brae. You and your troop are very entertaining. You're the leader, aren't you?”

“That I am.” Duffy said as he rubbed his temples in a feeble attempt to fight off a surge of stress swelling in his mind. “an' they've gone quite a while without me. That covers one o' me questions. Who are the lot of you?”

“We are the Veleniths of the Bladesinger's Guild. You're in Raiaera, the hidden settlement of Tirinost to be specific. Couldn't you tell by the Raiaeran we were speaking when you arrived so abruptly?” Maelle had just told a bold faced lie. They were speaking in common when Duffy had arrived, but she could take a good guess that he wasn't really focused on what language they were speaking as he was traveling at breakneck speed through a vortex. That would give her the opportunity to implant a bit of what she wanted him to believe in. If he was a sane intelligent being he would either believe what she claimed or just couldn't be to sure of it. Either way it worked to Maelle's advantage. She continued. “You know the situation in this country, correct?”

“Who doesn't. I can't believe I'm 'ere.” The actor said. It was almost as if the weight of the world that was on his shoulders doubled in mass. “Raiaera of all places.”

“You don't want to be here. I can see that, and it breaks my heart. It wasn't too long ago that my home land was the pride of Althanas. It's strange. This land has been ripped apart and I'm sure I can speak for everyone here when I say I still want to be here. That's the allure of home. Scara Brae is home for you, isn't it?”

Duffy nodded.

“We know someone with a ship at Tor Elythis. It's a colony on the eastern coast. Once we finish our mission here we'll be headed that way. If you help us we'll take you to that ship. Do we have a deal?”

Being recognised so far away from home was an ego stroking moment, but one that didn’t abate the seriousness of the situation. Replying short and sweet and with languishing confidence, Duffy learnt of a way to return to his beloved Prima Vista, a way indeed to find himself once more on familiar soil, fighting the same old fight, playing the same old game.

Pain, livid and tangible wavered through Duffy’s body, seeping down to his very core and cracking splinters into his bones. He was tired, and world weary, and slowly he succumbed to the realisation that Lucian was free; no longer anguishing in the mortal melody of his own, selfish, misery. As the woman before him, friendly and chirpy as she was imparted a stream of information, he took it in but could not quite process it enough to understand, to realise.

“Ship? Home?” He nodded, that much he had understood. For the last year he’d bowed to the whims of others, bartered with tradesman in souls and gold, all to be able to correct the mistakes others had made centuries before he’d even been born, even been conceived as an idea at the back of a frivolous man’s mind. “You will ‘ave to say wot and when, but I’ll give yer a’and, what for lyk, wotcha up to-“the term blade singer panged like a light in the dark. Had he been brought her through some distant irony, or for some dark purpose Lucian had yet to reveal? Perhaps this was where the idea of Lysander was born; perhaps here he could find answers to another eternal dilemma…

His acceptance given, the gaggle of elaborate and rigid men and women took him by the proverbial shoulder and guided him to another room, although he had neither the patience nor mood to take note of his surroundings, its grandeur and darkness and security blanketed him with satisfaction.

“Tor Elythis ya say?” His limited, if nonexistent knowledge of languages told him it wasn’t a name that could be found in Corone or Scara Brae; these were strange lands and a strange people he was walking amongst. A chance to learn of other tales, of others cultures? Perhaps. But at the back of Duffy’s mind, as the woman told him of the mission and their intended deceit, he started to miss all he’d left behind.

They arrived in a small store room, in which they found several large crates containing what appeared to be, on closer inspection, a venerable cornucopia of regal attire. The lack of windows and the length of time it had taken them to traverse the long sweeping corridors indicated that they were below ground level, perhaps this was some form of ancient cell or refuge in times of war, a way for the holders of the fortress to bide the tides of the rising storm.

Duffy understood that they were clothing items and uniforms of blade singers, death lords and other strange and illustrious titles he did not recognise. “So,” he began, picking up something approaching a metallic brasserie, “wot exactly am I supposed to be doin’?” He’d listened, but not entirely comprehended. Method acting of course was well within Duffy’s miniscule repertoire of talent, but he couldn’t act was a being he’d never encountered, he had to get into the mind or the life of his quarry before becoming him, he had to live, breathe and eat and sleep as the role. “Not to mention, what’re your names again? I’m dumb as a wet plank sometimes!”

Somewhat ironically, Duffy knew blade singers all too well; perhaps he could pull a little gambit of his own…

“How rude of us.” Maelle chimed immediately as she ran her hand along the oak crates. The humid basement wreaked of a strange mix of sawdust, sweat blood, and other bodily fluids. This was the accumulation of a year's worth of strife. These were various dropped items of deceased friends and enemies alike, but what would be of particular use was the collection of Death Lord and Archivist uniforms and items left in the wake of Godhand Striker. Maelle pointed to the family members as they were all preoccupied with rummaging through the open crates. “I am Mira, these are my younger siblings Lilith and Victrolis, and my parents Elunice and Arinotail. We're the Velenith family, members of the Bladesinger's Guild for the past three hundred years.”

“Pleasure.” Duff said as he folded his arms and peered along the seemingly endless underground corridor. “So what am I to do with this 'ere costume closet?”

“What all great actors do with a costume closet. They get to know their roles. You and Mira will infiltrate the army of Death Lord Cara Skye. She will pose as a fellow Death Lord,” Vespasian said as he handed Maelle a breastplate of black armor. “And you will pose as that Death Lord's Archivist.” Vespasian said as he handed Duffy a long violet robe. “Do you have arcane powers of any kind?”

“Not really.”

“No matter.” Vespasian shrugged his shoulders. He looked at his eldest sister again. “Mira, can you inscribe some powers for our actor here?”

“Absolutely.” Maelle clasped on the last piece of the breastplate which was obviously made of a man. She wiggled around it it, then started to take it off. “I can also use mine to enhance the look of his.”

“So what am I going to do?” The actor said as he tried on the robe and became a moving pillar of purple that just so happened to have a head of auburn poking out of the top.

“You and Mira are going to approach the Death Lord and offer your assistance in commanding her army. You'll have to turn one of her strengths into a great weakness.” Vespasian began to bury his head into one of the boxes. There was a particular item he was looking for. Everything else was irrelevant and so it was literally tossed behind him to make a muffled thud on the dirt floor. “She has an army made up exclusively of undead sentient beings. Aside from the fact that they're bound to serve Xem'zund, they're still intelligent.”

“And their condition doesn't stipulate loyalty to their Death Lord.” Alix said with wide sapphire eyes of revelation. It was flattering to Vespasian that his mother trusted his plan even though she didn't fully comprehend it until now.

“Exactly. If the two of you plant seeds of suspicion it'll be easy to bring down troop morale, and maybe even create an uprising against Skye.”

“But, Sir, are we not charged with defending the settlement above all else?” One of the bodyguards said. “Those were the Lady General's orders.”

“The Lady General also put me in charge, didn't she?” Esme said as he pointed to himself. “The best defense is a great offense.”

“Yes, but... Is it not the other way around?”

“Of course not. Who says it the other way around?” Esme stared at the soldier and the soldier stared back. It was an awkward moment made more so by the end of the company's noisy movement. “Well then we're done with that conversation. Do you have the results of the survey?”

“Yes. Out of the forces Nalith left in our stead we have two hundred able bodied men against the Death Lord's two thousand. Out of the combat supplies she has left we have one hundred short swords, fifty long swords, one hundred and twenty seven long shields, forty buckler shields, one hundred and seventy six trained war horses and an excess of three hundred bows.”

“Three hundred bows?” Esme said as he signaled for one of the other soldiers. “I know pomegranates are a staple around here and I haven't had one in forever. Do you have any?”

“We are in the forest, Sir.” The vocal soldier said with a tinge of frustration as he tried to get Esme's attention again.

“True.” Esme said in a rare moment of serious contemplation. The defense force strategy was coming to him. “Do those horses all come with stirrups.”

“Affirmative.”

“Then it sounds like I'll be training myself a horde.” A mobile cavalry of archers was the perfect strategy. They could easily strike from afar and stay on the move without giving away the location of their colony. “Do we have any bowmen in the camp?”

“Yes, we do.”

“And equestrians?” Esme said as the soldier he sent for a pomegranate returned with a fresh one already sliced in half. “That was quick. Good job. You deserve a promotion.”

“Most every one of those able bodied men know how to ride a horse.” The survey soldier took note of the gratitude Esme had just given the other for such a menial task, and it annoyed him even more.

“And what about the women?”

“Women as in...” The survey soldier narrowed his green eyes. He literally could not fathom what Esme was asking for.

“Fighting women.” Ludivine said with a quiet hatred of the soldier's closed mind.

“And we're moving very quickly out of Lilith's reach.” Esme grabbed the armored elf by the shoulder pads and escorted him out of hearing range of the rest of the family. “Did you see what you did to her back there? You damn near got yourself castrated. That's what she, my wife, and my other daughter are capable of. On top of that Raiaera's highest ranking officer is a woman. Do you know why? Because hell hath no fury like a woman's scorn. Now what I want you to do is organize all the children into day cares, which will be managed by those who aren't able to fight. Take every mother and daughter able to pull a bow and ride a horse, and have them meet us outside of the villa's walls tomorrow morning.”

“Ya know somethin's troublin me. I know Bladesingers, and you lot don't act like Bladesingers.” Duffy said with a smile “Ya more along the lines of...”

“Rangers?” The entire family said in unison.

“Yea.” Vespasian smiled and patted Duffy on the back “We get that a lot.”

Duffy was beginning to grow tired of the weight on his shoulders, for once, he pleaded to no-one in particular, could someone else carry it? It wasn’t altogether that heavy, but as he agreed and found himself embroiled in someone’s devilish plan in a far away land, it pushed down all the heavier. Pretending to be a prince or thief or noble, those were his forte, hiw dramatical emblems, but a ‘deathlord?’ He was a mediocre improvisor, and this would require the most fertive of minds to create from the nothingness the strange but likeable entourage he’d acquired seemed to draw from.

”Yeah...we get that alot...” He had seen somewhat through their disguise, but he guessed he couldn’t be sure what they were. Everyone in the world was a postmodern identity crisis, a rippling masque of here nor there and everywhere in between. It was no small wonder that he still remembered who he was, having played so many different roles in his life. The damp stone and gloom of this ante-chamber to stardom was not exactly the dressing room to which he was accustomed, but it would suffice. Through a window upstairs he’d caught a glimpse of the strange and inhospitable jungle that was Raiara, a new and undiscovered land to explore.

What made his predimement worse than ever, was that in his exile, he had no control over the methods of returning home. True enough, he could simply slip out through the non-existant back entrance and make a bid for this ‘ship’ Maelle spoke of on his own, but he had no assurances of distance, nor if such a ship existed at all. He started to ponder, as the menagerie of clothing at his found travelled upwards and wrapped around his lanky form by way of a gaggle of hands, cooing and strange dialect. Why had Lucian sent him here? Was it to simply have him out of the way, or was this some test, some fragmented memory of Lucian’s own pain that he wished to inflict on him...

Where was Ruby?

“Look!” He snapped, putting his hands deftly to either side and tensing, as if to warn off the snake like tendrils of drab cotton and weary wool. “I ain’t meanin’ to be rude or owt, but I can’t pretend to be this, thing you want me to be without you tellin’ me wot, how, when, where it all ‘appens and what they act like.”

He doubted this time that The Aria would help him, and certainly, this time, something would go wrong. It was fortunate for him that these people appeared to at least know how to use their swords, which was more than could be said for Young Duffy Bracken. He prayed at the back of his mind for the Katarhna, for Lysander Brandybuck to peal through the darkness and step forth to save the day once more. He was the bladesinger to which Duffy affixed his personality and dreams too, and the man he was claiming to be now – thank god for my poker face!