You As You Are (Closed)

[Arden]

Prologue

Arden stared at the frozen rose on his desk. Ruby Winchester had presented it to him. Three days later, it had encroached on his day-to-day activity. He had slowly become obsessed with it.

“What a strange way to say something so simplistic.” He frowned.

The office teemed with urgency. There were piles of paper on either end of his desk three feet high. Whilst he had been absent from Scara Brae for months, people had still clamoured for attention of The Hound.

“What do you think I should do with it?” he asked his companion.

The red clad assassin named Rouge shrugged. Despite her keen intellect, she could not work out why the ice mage had chosen it as his symbol. She had to admit, though, that it intrigued her.

“I guess you’re going to ask him yourself,” she said, matter-of-fact. “So why did you ask me here?”

Arden leant back into his chair. The hound heads on each arm snarled. Rouge approached the seat in front of the desk. It was diminutive compared to Arden’s grandiose and imposing throne.

“It would be wise to monitor Rehtul’s movements in the Sanctum.” His answer seemed cold, business like, and out of character. Rouge stared at him until he told her the truth. “Okay, it’s because he scares me.” He raised an eyebrow.

“Arden Janelle…is scared of a child?” She had a hard time believing him.

“Ruby’s not a woman to ignore lightly. When she tells me, in no uncertain terms, to help someone…,” he trailed off.

One of the petals broke away and rattled on the stained wooden surface of the desk. It rocked back and forth, and a little puddle formed beneath it.

“Go on…,” Rouge erred.

“Then I consider it imperative.” His bark was mighty, but Ruby’s was worse still.

“Of course you do,” she quipped sarcastically. She produced a parchment from her fur-lined sleeve. She unfurled it. She idly read the contents over.

“I believe he has a part to play,” he said.

He flicked his brown fringe from his eyes. His pupils glowed in the twilight of the dimly lit room. His office, fortunately, only shared the ambiance of the underworld, and not its stench.

“You believe everyone has a ‘part to play’. Unfortunately,” she held the parchment at arm’s length, “few pieces in a game of chess get their time to shine.”

Arden took it, scanned the contents, and looked at her questioningly.

“What it is?” he asked.

“You tell me,” she replied tartly.

Arden compiled his thoughts. He returned the parchment, and watched Rouge secrete it about her person. It documented the recent movements of the royal family.

“The Queen’s worried about something…,” he mused. Rouge nodded. “Why are you showing me this now?” He raised an eyebrow. His eyes glistened with interest.

“You must be careful around Rehtul, if he’s the man I think he is,” she warned, standing quickly with a stomp of her stiletto.

“Rouge, please speak plainly.” Arden was in no mood for riddles and games, least not with her.

“He’s Orlouge. That family have caused considerable backlash for Scara Brae.” She walked to the desk and pressed her palms onto the veneer. “We’re struggling because the Empire is taking its frustrations out on Valeena.”

Arden now understood. As an Ixian Knights, Rehtul was an enemy of the Scourge. He had it on good authority, however, that the ice mage was not sway to his uncle’s ideals.

“Rehtul’s a potent sorcerer,” he offered in the boy’s defence.

Arden opened the draw to his right and produced a decanter. He set it into the desk, and placed three cut crystal glasses around its square base. He closed the draw with a soft thud, turned the key, and rested his hands on his lap.

“He’s also an Orlouge.” She narrowed her gaze on the glasses. “No thank you,” she said, rather presumptuous.

“I give you my word Rehtul is here of his own accord.” He looked at her in earnest. “I was also not offering,” he chuckled. “The third glass is for Ruby.”

“You’re letting her in as well?” Rouge’s disgust was odiously obvious.

“I trust Ruby more than the Maester himself.” His voice was dry and tired.

“I trust your word as law, Arden, but consider this a warning.” She sighed. “I’d hate to say I told you so.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He looked up at the antique clock on the easterly wall as it chimed four times. “Would you ensure their safe arrival? Don’t let them see you,” he added.

She her goggles around her neck up and over her eyes. Her smile vanished her scarf as she wrapped it around her chin. She stood, pulled up her hood, and bowed. She quickly wandered out into the cavernous Sanctum. He stared at the doorway wistfully in her absence.

With Rouge gone, Arden could relax. He did not have long before his guests arrived. He reached for the decanter, and lifted the bottle to his nose. He pulled the stopper and poured himself a measure. He slid the glass to the edge of the desk, set the decanter down, and let out a long, satisfying sigh.

He waited in silence and admired the hazel liquid as he circled between slender fingers. His shirt and back were running with sweat as the humidity of the underground intensified. His teeth ached and hungered for meat.

“That bastard refuses to stay out of our lives,” he spat.

He guzzled the whiskey, slammed the glass down, and slammed a clenched fist onto the icy bloom. It shattered, scattered, and lost its pride. The swordsman seethed. The winged figure of Sei Orlouge flashed before his eyes. Arden took a deep breath, leant back in his chair, and fell into deep thought. He rested to his right, leant his chin on a clenched fist, and scowled.

[Arden]

You As You Are

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Closed to Rehtul Orlouge. Sequel to You As You Were.

[Rehtul Orlouge]

Rehtul hung listlessly over the edge of the ship, his eyes staring down into the ocean below. He continued to feign seasickness as he avoided the gaze of the woman he had recently killed for the second time. As much as he loved travelling, being stuck on a small cramped vessel with at least thirty other people was not his idea of a fun voyage. If it were perhaps only a handful of others, he could perhaps see it working, but when you’re surrounded by two dozen men who were required to keep the vessel running, things tended to get complicated.

He hung his head out and let the sea foam hit his face as the boat sped across the ocean. He could feel Ruby’s eyes upon him, signaling to him that he had wasted enough time pretending to be seasick. He allowed himself to looked up into the sky, and made a show of wiping his mouth off with the sleeve of his blue robes. He turned around and faced the redhead as he smiled, knowing she had been onto him the whole time, but too... kind, perhaps, to point out that he had been merely avoiding conversation.

He thought bitterly about freezing the entire ocean as a fluctuation in the water pulled his legs out from under him. Cursing bitterly he threw his hands out beneath him, bracing himself for the fall. His hindquarters hit the wooden deck and he yelped in slight pain.

“This is what happens when you don’t have any sea legs to speak of,” the Mystic sighed to himself as he dusted off the back of his robes. He rolled his eyes as he leaned back against the railing of the ship, his eyes darting back and forth among the crew. Ever curious, he took in what they were doing. Sails were being pulled back and forth, keeping the wind from blowing them off course while still using them to move forward. The ship’s many ropes and pulleys each seemed to have a use, the tan strands of cord pulling tightly on some sails, slackly holding others in place.

He could feel the wind around them, pushing them toward their destination, and as he caught Ruby’s eyes once more, he smiled, though she seemed merely to be annoyed with his childlike curiosity, more concerned with reaching their destination and getting him out her hair, though he wasn’t sure whether that was because she was annoyed with him, or not looking forward to meeting this mysterious man that she claimed would be able to help the young man.

He looked up at the azure skies above once more as the lookout screamed the trademark words of a ship making landfall.

“Land Ho!”

Rehtul looked over Scara Brae for the first time in his life. While technically owing its allegiance to the Empire of Corone, Scara Brae had long been thought of by the population of the larger island to be its own autonomous government, at least until Corone started leaning heavily on the people in charge, enlisting their help, willing or not, in the war with the Rangers and the Ixian Knights.

Rehtul rolled his eyes as he thought back to his uncle’s plans for the Knights. The young Elementalist had first thought that it was merely to keep both sides from wiping out the entirety of Corone, but not he was not sure. If his uncle Ciato was any hint, the Orlouges would, if given the power, be tempted to use it to impose their own will over that of others. He could only hope and pray that Sei wouldn’t fall into the same trap. Leading a country was not the role for a hero of the people. That was best left to bureaucrats who would be better able to serve essential functions as mere tools for the people.

He shook his head and muttered, “Don’t let this war destroy what you worked so hard to build, Sei.”

With that little reminder, a reminder he was certain the elder Orlouge would be able to hear, even over the hundreds of miles from Radasanth to the port of Scara Brae, he stood, his knees shaking under him. He took a few steps on the creaking wood below and braced himself for what he was sure would be undulating waves heading into shore. He was thinking of making it over to Ruby to ask her some general questions about the people of Scara Brae, and the way in which the country was run, but he couldn’t risk falling on his ass in front of all those sailors again.

With a sigh he leaned up against the railing, his eyes set upon the city in front of him. He looked out and saw them, hundreds of houses leading up to a large center fixture.

The Crown Jewel... Scara Brae’s capital building, Rehtul thought as he looked upon the pristine building. It seemed, at the very least, that the war had, for the most part, left this country alone. He was certain they had their own military and political troubles. Things like this seemed to happen all over the world, regardless of race, religion, or political creed. There were always those who wanted more power, by any means necessary. Rehtul could feel his body beginning to twitch, but he took a deep breath and stilled it.

I wonder what the best plan of attack would be against something like that, he wondered idly as the ship set into port. The large vessel pulled into the docks and stopped just short of crashing into one of the city’s levies.

“This captain’s good,” he said as he waited for the plank to be lowered, so he could finally leave this cursed form of transportation. As it was lowered, he stepped off, following the Lady Winchester, his eyes focused entirely on the spot between her shoulder blades. He was in what amounted to a foreign land. He couldn’t lose track of the one person he knew who’d be able to keep him from getting lost. While his magical power was nothing to sneeze at, he still had no reason to go looking for trouble.

“So... where to?” he asked.

[Ruby]

Ruby looked over her shoulder as she walked on. She was not sure if ignorance or skill made her avoid the seething mass of sailors, merchants, and beggars. With instincts ablaze, she advanced without incident as she began to speak.

“The Sanctum is guarded.” By guarded, she meant near impossible to find. “We have to go north a little bit, and then into the Novello district.” She turned back, unsteady legs still not quite recovered from the voyage.

“It’s very cloak and dagger,” Rehtul mused.

She paused to find her sense of direction. Rehtul came to an abrupt halt. As she adjusted herself, cocked an umbrella from nowhere over her shoulder, and flicked a strand of wayward hair from her eyes, Rehtul continued to take in the cityscape.

“I’m finding it hard to believe something like the Scourge could exist here,” he mused further.

His translucent eyes, mirroring the ice of his namesake, shone with intrigue as they scanned the horizon. Jagged rooftops and tall, ramshackle messaging towers dotted the landscape. Gulls in their hundreds, and crows in their thousands flocked from slate to slate, crying their discontent.

Ruby turned. She tried to smile, but given the boy had killed her with an icicle, she struggled to remain anything but officious. She reminded herself that this was business. This was a kindness. This was a debt repaid, in full, and forever.

“Scara Brae is a haven to the weary traveller. However, everything here is never as it seems.”

Rehtul raised an eyebrow. He wondered if Ruby included herself in that statement.

“Will he really see me?” he shrugged.

Ruby nodded. “If Arden Janelle is told to help Ruby Winchester, he will do as he’s damned well told.” Her voice was turgid, robust, and loud. She swayed no more. She was pallid no longer. She was home. “Come on Rehtul, quick march now.”

The ice mage kept up the pace, though he lingered as they wove through the crowd whenever something new and interesting appeared.

“What happened here?” he asked nobody in particular. They veered right, and then left, and right again. Wherever he looked, somebody was trying to earn coin for a hearty meal. War was taking its toll. Politics were ailing the coffers of the kingdom, and its people were not afraid to act, kill, and steal to get by.

“Despite the war being far away in Corone, Scara Brae still feels the effects.”

She pointed down an alleyway, and they ducked into it. They advanced quick march through the heart of the sailor’s quarter. The shadows smelt of fish, sewerage, and rot. Cobwebs hung from rusty hooks overhead, and lanky shirts and dark pantaloons dangled from washing lines high up. They dried in the last light of the dying sunlight.

“It is sad to see it like this,” he reflected. He wondered if it would ever return to normal.

Ruby smiled. “When we arrive, you must know how to carry yourself.” The subject of war dropped unceremoniously. “Do not speak to anyone with a mask.” To do so would be certain death, but she left that small detail out for civility’s sake. “Do not speak to anyone wearing a golden rose or anyone missing their eyes.” They were the silent. They were the cursed. They were the punished.

“Their eyes?” Rehtul asked. Ruby ignored him.

“Whatever you do, do not turn down Arden’s whiskey.” Ruby turned sharply and fell silent. Her eyes widened. Her nostrils flared.

Rehtul had to run the warning through his mind several times. He leaned back as Ruby leant in to his personal space.

“I know my airs and graces,” he clucked. He grew up in the company of lords, women, and heroes, after all.

Ruby shook her head. “I mean it,” she pointed over her shoulder. The alleyway gave way to a small courtyard, at the centre of which stood a proud, ancient, and resplendent tree. “You are in the court of the Scourge now. Here, the laws of the White Hand mean life or death.”

Rehtul stumbled forwards, hands flailing for grip where none resided. His eyes sparkled. His heart raced. He crossed from twilight into the afternoon sun, like a tourist obliviously careening towards a spectacle. Ruby walked behind him slow, hands tucked into the small of her back. She had seen the White Tree a thousand times.

“Good lord, I didn’t think it was real!” he exclaimed.

“It is as real as you or I,” she replied. She gestured with a ring-laden finger to the tree’s trunk. “People come here with their messages, wishes, and worries. The Scourge does their best to help the poor where they can.”

The citizens had been pinning their hopes, dreams, and desires to the tree for centuries.

“Are we near, then?” he asked, turning sharply.

Ruby nodded. “The bar across the courtyard is the entrance.” Within seconds, they nodded to the door attendant and delved into a beer and piss stained nightmare.

“Remember what I said…,” Ruby whispered. “Learn to like whiskey!”

[Rehtul Orlouge]

Rehtul half smiled at Ruby as she continued to lead him through the streets, and began showing off everything that Scara Brae had hidden within its streets. Of course, when he saw the White Tree, he was shocked and amazed, though that only lasted a short moment before his face became immobile, almost looking completely uninterested in the world around him. He could feel the stress in the air around him, and he looked toward the back of the woman who was leading him toward this “Arden” character.

He sighed, thinking back to how he had said promises were hard things to keep, and he stopped dead in his tracks as they entered the bar. He stepped off to the side of the door and motioned for Ruby to do the same. He leaned up against the wall, his hands stuffed into his pockets as he looked the woman dead in the eye.

“Whatever happened between you and my uncle has nothing to do with me. I’m still a member of the Knights, this is true, but it doesn’t mean I agree with everything Sei is doing, or even most of it. When I said promises are hard things to keep, I was speaking in general terms, not of the splintering between us and the Tantalum. As far as I’m concerned, when Sei decided to enter the war as a third party, he opened the door to objections and resignations,” he said simply, pulling at the collar of his shirt as he looked at the woman before him. He smiled and tapped the wooden wall behind him with a single finger, looking for just the right words to say.

“As far as I’m concerned, anyone who quit the Knights because of other concerns back home or because their conscience wouldn’t allow them to fight one or both sides did what they thought were right, and nothing Sei can say on the matter will change my opinion. No one does something thinking it’s wrong, or at least the lesser of two evils.”

With that out of the way, he looked away from the woman’s face and gave the bar his first real look. It was strangely quiet, and he was pretty sure half of the people in the bar now knew of his affiliation, but he didn’t particularly care at that moment. He had a point he had to make, and he made it.

“As far as coarse whiskey, what do you think we use as disinfectant at the Tomb? I’ve drunk the stuff enough to be able to at least act like it doesn’t bother me.” He tapped his nose lightly and walked past the Mrs. Winchester.

“Now... are we going to meet this fellow, or were you planning on building up the suspense for a few more hours?”

[Ruby]

Ruby appreciated Rehtul’s honesty. She admired that quality in a man. It was the reason she was married to Leopold Winchester, and why she put up with Duffy Bracken’s constant instability. As long as people told her what they thought, she left them to it.

“All in due course Rehtul, all in due course.”

They walked through tavern back rooms, alleyways, and old, ramshackle courtyards. For a while, it seemed as if they were simply taking a stroll through old Scara Brae, a part of the city abandoned to crime, prostitution, and the occasional riot. All of a sudden, they turned into a building, a cul-de-sac of depravation, and found themselves in the dark.

Rehtul’s eyes glowed with interest. Ruby’s eyes danced with pallid light. She clicked her fingers, and a torch erupted to life on the far wall.

“From here, we go down underground. You should watch your step, because everywhere you tread there’s likely to be a body, slime, or a rat.” She did not attempt to dress up the fact that they were, clearly, about to drop down into a sewer.

“The Scourge lives in the sewers?” The ice mage asked wryly.

Ruby chuckled. She stood aloof, arms shrugging, and pointed to the manhole in the centre of the room. It was a rusty circlet of obfuscation.

“What did you expect?”

Rehtul had expected something more grandiose. He advanced as she gestured for him to do so.

“I don’t know…,” he said softly as he knelt. He pressed his knee onto the damp floor tiles, and immediately felt water on his skin. He winced. “A little more gold, and a lot less…” He paused to lift up the cover. “You know…” He slid it noisily to one side. “Shit.”

Ruby guffawed. He voice echoed out across the rooftops and damp beams of yesterday’s busy market district. She stooped as the opening teemed with darkness, and screamed atop her lungs.

“The White Tree wails!”

There was a long, awkward silence. Rehtul looked at Ruby, and then the portal, and then back at Ruby in bemusement.

“The White Hand prevails!” a voice cried back. It was hollow, and rose up from the humid sewers. Somebody down below was expecting them.

“Watch your step young sir,” she chirped.

“I really don’t like shit…,” Rehtul grumbled.

He began to clamber down into the dark, turning to put his boot on the unseen rung, as if his life depended on it. He felt the emptiness beneath him, and guessed the drop down into the unknown was not one he would like to fall through.

“Oh quite your whining,” Ruby replied.

She started to climb down after him before the boy had finished getting his wits, and they tumbled down haphazard into the foyer of the Scourge. Their rough landing echoed through the halls of the Golden Hall, accompanied by cursing, laughter, and bemusement.

[Arden]

Rouge watched Ruby and Rehtul land and winced. She felt their pain, and then remembered her place. She restrained herself from running to their aid, and retreated further into the shadows.

“Oh lord,” Ruby mumbled. She righted herself, held out a hand, and plucked Rehtul up into her embrace. “I said I’d get you there in one piece, so be more careful in the future.”

Rehtul blinked. “I’m sorry; you want me to be…” He trailed off when he realised her glare was rhetorical. He sighed. “Yes Ruby…”

In unison, the duo turned, and advanced. Rouge retreated out of sight and earshot, and slinked back through hidey-hole and bolt portal to the inner sanctum of the Scourge’s headquarters. Though Arden had given her orders, she knew all too well that the esteemed Ruby Winchester could handle herself.

“Onwards, and don’t dally. If anyone gets in your way, point at me, and then walk on.” She raised an eyebrow, and waited for the ice mage to move. He faltered. She prodded him in the ribs. He moved, very quickly.

Their journey through the entrance halls was exciting for the mage, but Ruby had seen it a thousand times before. She could appreciate how the lavish décor and the colourful occupants might overwhelm Rehtul. Damp, fetid, and ageing brickwork soon became smooth, polished, and etched obsidian. The black stone depicted a great conflict.

“Yes, it’s pretty, but go just a little further.” Ruby’s voice was dry, sardonic, and disinterested. She somehow knew Rehtul had paused to stare intently at the mural depicting a wolf-headed swordsman at the heart of a battleground. “Wait until you see what lies just beyond.”

Just ahead, the long, dark, dusty corridor broke out onto a balcony. Below the balcony, there was a grand hall, operatic in scale, and beholden to all the wealth imaginable. The walls were leafed with golden sheets, covering etching, artwork, and gargoyle alike. On the lower floor, there were boxes, crates stacked five high, and shadowy figures ran back and forth through the narrow passageways. Multiple doorways lead away to other, more important rooms Rehtul and Ruby would never see.

“You’re not giving him the Awe Tour is you, Ruby?” Rouge said.

The ice mage and the spell singer wheeled about in surprise. When Ruby saw who it was, she held out her hand and pressed it against Rehtul’s chest.

“It’s alright, Rehtul. This is a friend. Rouge, it’s a pleasure.”

The rogue smiled. She held out a hand, but only Rehtul took it in greeting.

“The pleasure’s all mine,” she replied dryly.

Rehtul let curiosity take over, and stumbled out, sweating, into the Sanctum.

“Good grief,” he sputtered.

Ruby and Rouge stepped out behind him, one to his left, and one to his right. They tried to sound surprised and awed by the sight, but left him to his own devices.

“Is he waiting for us?” Ruby leant over to ask. Rouge nodded. “Good, he knows I hate to be kept waiting.” She stood straight again, and held her hands in the small of her back.

“He’s in his office, with the books you asked for, and I think you might need to be prepared for a little bit of…” She pursed her lips as she spoke. “Well, for a little bit of a feisty encounter.”

Ruby slumped. “What’s wrong?”

“He’s running out of whiskey.” With her duty to Ruby fulfilled Rouge walked behind them, hoping to slip away when they finally came to stand before The Hound's office.

“Rehtul…,” Ruby snapped. “Come on…before he gets grumpy.” She pressed her hand on his shoulder, and pushed him right; counter clockwise around the balcony. Their destination was the door on the far side of the balcony.

“What do you think?” she enquired.

[Rehtul Orlouge]

Rehtul looked out over the balcony at the rich view from the balcony as the two women talked in the background. He could feel that the two of them were a bit worried about the lack of alcohol in this Arden’s office, meaning he was likely sore about running out while waiting on the two of them. However, this was not his problem.

The area was covered in gold gilded leaf, meaning that this organization that Arden seemed to run was quite influential within the world, at least from the richly appointed decoration. If he had to guess, he would think that they controlled at least a portion of the criminal trade in the city, with perhaps some legal business. He was certain, however, with the location of the headquarters, that they were not an entirely legal entity. He could only bring himself to wonder what exactly this underworld would hold for him, and what kind of person this man he was brought to meet was.

He smiled lightly to himself as he felt Ruby pushing on his back and allowed the woman to steer him toward a giant set of double doors on the end of the hallway opposite the entrance. His jaw dropped as he looked at the giant door. There was no way on Althanas this had been cheap, and the installation must have been a pain in the neck for whoever they brought in to install these imposing things.

The doors were held together by a running motif that seemed to be that of the head of a lion. While normally Rehtul was not impressed by anyone attempting to show off, this seemed to be more of a statement than any attempt to show off.

Beware those who enter here, you step into the lion’s den, Rehtul thought as he turned toward the woman behind him.

“The door’s an interesting piece of architecture, but how about we push in through the door and see what’s on the other side?” he asked as he stepped aside and motioned toward the door. The woman seemed to be indifferent to his reaction and walked up to the door. As she opened it, Rehtul finally got his first peek inside the office of the man he had been brought to see.

It was... sparse would be an understatement. It had a richly appointed number of books on either side of the central desk, but little or no decoration at all. He stepped through the doorway, following after the woman as the way behind them closed. He could feel now that he had no chance of stepping back. He would have to see this through, no matter what end he reached.

My fate was sealed the second I stepped on that bloody boat, he reminded himself. He didn’t have the funds on hand to charter a boat back to Corone, at least not without having a letter sent to Sei requesting his assistance. He was certain there would be none forthcoming, however, since the older man was busy with his little war, a little too busy to help out a stranded nephew.

So... this is him... The Hound of the Scourge, the young ice mage thought as his blue eyes met the red of the man opposite him. He smiled slightly at the men before him, a friendly smile in Rehtul’s eyes, but when the other man did nothing back, his mouth formed a thin, straight line as he felt the hair on the back of his neck beginning to stand.

Rehtul crossed his arms, one over the other, as he waited to be addressed, eyes cold and focused upon the man before him, the brown haired Hound who had sniffed him out and had him delivered like nothing more than the human equivalent of a parcel in the mail.

“So... why am I here?”

[Arden]

Arden raised an eyebrow. He had begun to inspect the boy the moment he appeared in the doorway. Truth told, the swordsman was not entirely sure what to expect, but Rehtul was not it.

“You’re here because Ruby Winchester wants you to be,” he said flatly. He adjusted himself in his chair. He glared at the Spell singer furiously. “I am assuming you’ve told him a crock of shit?”

The tension in the office grew.

“That’s a little harsh, Arden,” she pouted. She folded her own arms across her chest, and began to tap the toe of her boot on the cold stone. “I asked you to help Rehtul, and you asked me to bring him to you.”

The bitter exchange left the ice mage confused. He looked at Ruby, and then at the Hound, and then back at Ruby.

“What’s going on?” he asked furtively.

“Ignore him, Rehtul. He’s playing me the fool.” She glared at the swordsman, waved Rehtul to the chair opposite his own, and then retreated to the door. “When you’re both finished posturing, I’ll be in the hall, waiting to mop up your ego.”

Before the boy could object, or before Arden could snap at her, she was gone. Only the sound of her heels clicking against the corridor’s marble floor filled the chamber. Eventually, the sound died, and the room found itself left in male formed silence. Rehtul looked at Arden. Arden looked at Rehtul.

“I apologise. When it boils down to it, Rehtul, I have agreed to ‘help’ you because I have little choice.” He leant forwards in his chair. His imposing, fiery mane of hair glimmered in the dim light of the room’s candles. “She thinks you’re worthy.”

“Worthy of what?” the ice mage asked.

He sat in the chair, hesitantly, and tried to make himself as comfortable as possible. With the swordsman glaring at him, and the presence of several hundred murder experts feet away, it was hard to find peace.

“My sister believes you’re worthy of becoming a member of this organisation.”

Rehtul watched Arden stand, pour two aforementioned whiskey shots, and slide a glass across the green leather of the desk. He hesitated, despite his promise to Ruby, before he took the glass and swirled it in his fingertips. He looked down into the amber depths, sombre.

“I think there’s been a mistake,” he said.

“Oh?” Arden replied. He downed his drink. He leant back. He slammed the glass onto the wide arm of the chair. The hound motif on his pauldrons let out a low rumbling growl.

Rehtul looked up, eyes sparkling, and let his heart talk. “I could never join the Red hand.” There was strength and conviction in his statement.

“Oh, Rehtul…” he erred. “The Red Hand is dead. The motto is the same, by all means…” He shifted his weight. He sat upright, slid open the draw to his right, and pulled out a scroll. “Tell me…”

He set the scroll on to the desk.

“Do you believe that all good people deserve the choice over who rules them, governs them, and looks after their interests?”

[Rehtul Orlouge]

Rehtul had seen enough men in power to know that this man’s had at least bolstered his confidence. While he didn’t seem particularly bad of a person, he could tell the man was used to having his orders followed and his decisions uncontested. Rehtul’s left brow cocked slightly as the man began to explain about the death of the Red Hand and the creation of this new organization within Scara Brae. He adjusted his cape while keeping his eyes firmly planted on those of t he warrior opposite him

So this is the fabled Silent Swordsman, Arden Janelle. Funny, I thought he’d be taller, he thought as he looked at the glass in front of him. With the slightest bit of concentration, he froze the glass in his hands, the amber liquid within cooling to sub freezing temperatures quickly as the glass began to frost over.

The mage opened his thin maw and poured the vicious liquid down his throat with one swift swallow and placed the glass gently on the table. He sighed and slumped slightly in his chair before banging on his chest with a single fist, forcing a small burp up through his mouth that he quieted by placing his hand over his mouth gently.

“I think I forgot to mention to Ruby I spent some time drinking with Jensen back at the Tomb,” he said, chuckling under his breath as the older man paused for a moment. When the member of the organization continued about whether or not good people should have the choice of who ruled over them, the young mage nearly fell out of his chair as a loud bark of a laugh escaped his lips.

He straightened himself up, dusted off his jacket, and motioned for another drink to be poured. As his glass was filled, he though the question over. It was one he had been mulling over for months as his uncle waged war on the entirety of Corone with the Knights. Rehtul had sworn himself to the cause before he had even known what he was doing, but he had no real choice in the matter. Most of his family, barring his Uncle Ciato, were on Sei’s side, and Rehtul was loathe to ask the most wretched member of his family for help in even the smallest of forms.

He slammed the second back twice as easily as the first and smiled as the warmth began to permeate his body. He wasn’t a heavy drinker, but he knew he wasn’t anywhere near his limit yet.

“Do you really want my honest opinion?” he asked as he gently placed the glass back on the table once more. A cold flash crossed his face for a moment as he considered how to word his answer.

Without waiting for an answer from the older, brown haired warrior, he smiled and arched his arms into the air and stretched.

“It’s quite simple, really. I don’t know.”

With that simple revelation, he returned to looking around the room as he continued to think out his answer. The rune at the top of the room, filling the chamber with light gave him an idea, but it was one he would have to test later. In the meantime, he returned to looking directly at the man before him.

“Do people know what they need? They know what they want, and that’s someone to protect them during the harsh times, and to leave them the bloody hell alone during the good. Is that what’s necessary, though?” a he pursed his lips as he thought about the answer he himself had come up with awhile before.

“I don’t know. There are others who believe rule by an iron fisted government keeps people in line while providing maximum protection while restricting freedom. Is this right? Dunno. There are those who rule over people during peaceful times and then immediately crumble the second trouble begins to brew. Is this one right? Not sure,” he pressed a single finger into the wood of the desk in front of him and drew it across, leaving a clear trail over the dust that had gathered in the stuffy room.

“To be honest, people want what they want, and need what they need. Sometimes these two things are in direct opposition, other times not. The only way to truly know the answer...” he looked into the red eyes before him, the calm blue of his own rising like a great tidal wave toward a churning sea of lava.

“The only way... is to let people find out for themselves. No one has a one-size-fits-all answer. No one, not even my Uncle.” he intoned his last sentence with as much vigor as he could muster before once again relaxing back into the chair. “Mistakes are a part of human existence. If we don’t find the right solution at first, we try again until we get something that works for awhile, and then when that stops working or becomes a problem in itself, it too must be corrected by a new solution.”

He chuckled as he clasped his hands together in front of his face and peered over his tented fingers like a businessman hovering over a pile of gold pieces.

“It’s a study I’ve been conducting over countless history books. No government can last forever. It either radically changes to keep up with the times... or it dies, sometimes in a blaze of glory, and sometimes in a whisper,” he said. He shook his head and chuckled to himself again. “Do people have a right to choose, though? Well, that really depends on their ideals and whether or not they can agree to anything. Sometimes you have to compromise, and sometimes no compromise can be reached. Anarchies, dictatorships, monarchies, republics, democracies... Each of them a solution to a problem that preceded it.”

“Revolutions are sometimes needed, sometimes not, but whether or not they are right... well, that’s for history to decide. I’ve always been on the side of the underdog, myself. I mean, look at me, I’m not exactly the peak of physical perfection, but ask me whether people have a right to live their own lives, to choose how they live? Good people, specifically? I suppose they do, within reason.”

“As for my honest answer on the specific question you posed. I honestly don’t know. I doubt I ever will, but I believe good people do have the right to choose what they do with their lives for themselves, and for anyone to try to take that right away, when the people are doing no harm to others... that is the true crime.”