Out of Character:
Closed to Philomel and Lillith. Round 1 of the Killing Lye arc


Night had come around again too soon.

Shinsou Vaan Osiris rested his head against the cool metal of the Whitevale council chamber door. With the candles extinguished, the sunset crept in through the open curtains, casting the ceiling a rusty grey. Outside, the night shift watched the horizon like hawks; twelve guardsmen loyal to his cause trying to defend his township against a group of former Council rebels the Telgradian wasn't even sure really qualified as higher primates anymore. Their significance paled so much compared to his obsession with Lye Ulroke that the former Brotherhood Council's rebellion, led by Ducos, had slipped into a level of triviality that put them almost beyond caring about. Shinsou’s hand ferreted around in his pocket for a piece of paper, but the information written on it was hardly sufficient to dull his mind. It was one of many such scraps; encrypted notes passed from his “Immortals” to him, for his eyes only. The complex network of spies he had set up was so secret that even Storm Veritas knew nothing about them. Osiris had established them as the Brotherhood’s first true black operations team, tasked with one purpose and one purpose alone.

Finding out the location of Lye Ulroke; leader of the Crimson Hand.

Months of misinformation, bad informants and red herrings had turned up nothing, even for the best of Shinsou’s top intelligence officers. Whilst the Brotherhood scurried around Salvar, feeding off tablescraps of rumours, Lye Ulroke moved around like a phantom. The Crimson Hand were well organized, well funded and remarkably good at keeping their operations covert, and even as Shinsou surrounded himself with the best in their respective fields, he realised soon enough that the Crimson Hand were better. It was absolutely infuriating.

Now though, on a bit of torn, bloodstained paper no larger than a beer coaster, words scribbled hastily leapt off the page at him.

”Seventh Sanctum, GWE”

He was almost stupid enough to believe the lead meant something.

With a sudden jerking movement Shinsou stepped back and opened the door, the cool air of his council chamber rushing in. He turned, locking the door in three places, and paced to his illustrious fur lined chair at the head of an oblong table, neither looking left nor right yet having complete awareness of the figures gathered there. There was a man on the corner nearest him fronting all sorts of documentation and maps for the Executor’s perusal, and an aide rounding the corner to present what appeared to be some sort of letter. The candles in the chamber were all lit up. Shinsou’s feet moved over the floor tile cracks, his body casual, his ears taking in every sound before he seated himself and the rest of his cabinet sat down.

“You may be wondering why I’ve called this meeting.” The Telgradian started, gesturing to the five other seats ahead of him.

The man on the corner, Harper Malley, coughed. “Is Executor Veritas not joining us?”

Shinsou stopped fidgeting in his chair and shook his head silently. “No. You'll understand why shortly.”

There was a nod from Harper, the subtle message received, his red seersucker suit flashing garishly under his soaking slicker. The other four men followed suite.

Clutching the note produced from his pocket earlier, the Telgradian pushed it up the table towards Harper. The analyst gathered up the parchment and read the words out aloud, flapping his lips abruptly. As Harper digested the small tidbit, Shinsou’s eyes gazed out through the only window in the room. Oppressive clouds had rolled over the town as soon as the sun had touched the horizon, ending the day before its full time had been spent. Now the clouds were beginning to empty their cargo out all over the city, flooding the streets with sudden ponds and streams that swelled and splashed up the pants of the few guards on the streets.

"Well," Harper eventually said, turning to the bald man beside him and passing on the note. "I hope that bit of paper isn’t the only reason you are dragging us through this deluge."

Shinsou, peering up at his analyst through the darkness, frowned and shook his head.

"From what limited intelligence we were able to gather, and I do stress the world 'limited', the Seventh Sanctum is the name of Lye Ulroke's personal fortress. I have confirmation of that from one reliable source, but no one either knows or are willing to tell me where the fucking place is."

"What's GWE?" the bald headed man piped up. "Seventh Sanctum. GWE?" The monk-like fellow read aloud again, as if dictating to the table a second time would make it any clearer.

I have no fucking idea. Shinsou thought to himself. "I was hoping one of you may be able to come up with something. Harper, any thoughts?"

Harper's newly acquired title, head of the Immortals, was a clunky weight around his neck. He had literally been out of touch with most of Shinsou's Brotherhood, and his old Whitevale haunt, for several years. Once he had known almost all the men in the Council. Now, having returned to a usurped organization, he found himself a ghostly presence in most people's minds, and a complete nonentity in many's. But, as Shinsou had told him, he was the best of the analysts and without Malley's influence in the wider circles of world diplomacy, very little progress would ever get made by the Brotherhood. Shinsou trusted him, and that was enough for the man, but this time even Malley didn't have the answers.

"I'm terribly sorry for the interruption, Executor Shinsou," The aide from before cut in, leaning foward, handing Shinsou a sealed envelope "A message from Philomel Vaan der Aart. It's important." Shinsou blinked several times and sighed, patting the table with his hand.

"We'll continue this later. In the meantime, I want every possible iteration and abbeviation of GWE. I want to know what it means, and I want to know yesterday, because I have a feeling that those three letters are the key to unlocking this whole problem."

Harper, and the bald man, nodded. "Men?" Harper added to persuade the others to leave the chamber, giving a half-hearted bow to a seated Shinsou, who looked pensive. The bald man sighed, and raised his arm. "Lead on," he said, and the four were off. It had been a dramatic day for the Brotherhood War Cabinet. Called to Whitevale by Shinsou's Immortals, they had slipped away, not giving notice to anyone, hoping that Storm Veritas didn't catch a whiff of their departure and send a lightning bolt after them.

As the remnants of the cabinet exited the chamber, Shinsou sat alone, his letter knife tearing through the wax seal containing the all-too familiar Van der Aart coat of arms. The last time he had seen her was in the Crystal Cavern; right before Am'aleh had saved him from an untimely death by transporting him to the tetra plane. Written in her measured cursive, the message sloped across the page.

Dear Shinsou, if you are alive...

I have news. I have a daughter. No, I am not pregnant, but four and a half years ago now I gave birth to a young female faun. Her name is Celandine, and she is everything I ever hoped for her to be. It will surprise you, I know, for I have never mentioned her, and deliberately so. She was the idea of mine and Vaeron, so that if my legacy ever became something, which it has now, I suppose, then I would have someone to pass it onto.

Anyway. I have decided, finally, to make her mine. She was being kept in a brothel in Radasanth, under the guise that she was another whore's daughter. But now the day has come when I have claimed her as mine, and I know the rumours will begin. Very soon word will reach to my enemies that I have a child.

For now I have taken her to my fortress in the forest, the very same fortress which one of your men found all that time ago. Before we had the fight upon the shores of the endless stair case, before Beinost, before Amari. I have taken her there, Shinsou for the very reason that I fear that things are in motion. I have begun to hear rumours that the Crimson Hand is on the move in search of power, spreading its scarlet fingers in order to smite every enemy before they smite her. Thus, I made the decision to take Celdandine into my care, move her to the place I know she will be safe. Move her so that if I die, there will be someone to inherit everything I have worked so hard for.

Shinsou, I beg that you are alive. For I know the Crimson Hand will be seeking my death. Lye Ulroke has grown mad in his years of being a prisoner and then a wanderer. I have made my peace with Maddison Freebird, but Ulroke will not rest, this I know. I know you have your qualms with him, for he is the one who has poisoned Amari's mind and made her ... whatever she is now. I know she was once good, I know you once loved her. And I know you hate Ulroke. Thus, it is my intention to go straight for him, to kill him before he can get to me. To my daughter, to any of us. I am not taking my army, but I can take friends. And so it is I ask this.

I ask that you are still alive, Shinsou van Osiris, and I ask that you come with me to cut the head off the snake before it can strike. I ask that you and I did as we promised once to each other and end the life of Lye Ulroke for once and for all.

For I know where he likely is to be found. I was once part of their world, their secrets. You want revenge, and I can help you get it.

Please be alive, my dear friend.

Yours, Philomel van der Aart, Matriarch of the Gilded Lily

And PS: Vaeron is Celandine's father. Yes, he still prefers people unlike myself, and yes he is human. But a child of a faun and any other race will either adopt the full genes of one or the other, it is written into our bodies.
Rereading the contents of the letter, Shinsou's expression morphed from surprise, to stoicism and then back to surprise. Philomel had a daughter. That in itself was a shock to the Telgradian, but the shock soon transformed into understanding. It made sense that she had kept her in hiding all this time, this young Celdandine, away from the dangers posed by the Hand and Ulroke. To tell Shinsou would be one more person that could potentially leak the information, either accidentally or through torture should it have been neccesary.

Addressing the events between himself and Amari was always a way to pierce his stoic nature. The memories of their time together swirled liked a river through his mind; little pieces of flashbacks all melding into one completely fucked up timeline of events. Her rescue, their passion, her fall to Lye Ulroke, and now....

Now what? I don't even know if she is okay. I can't even sense her presence anymore.

Shinsou now knew so little of Amari's situation that he wasn’t certain how much of what he remembered her to be was actually still true. Had her soul continued to corrode in his absence? Would she even want to see him again? Shinsou had his doubts. It was more likely that she had gone back to Lye, to the Seventh sanctum, wherever the hell that was.

The Telgradian continued to examine the letter as these thoughts filled his head, his fingers combing through his thick, chestnut hair. He stalked the empty chamber like a lion circling prey, now thinking only about Lye Ulroke and Philomel's aptly-timed offer.

This is all well and good, but no-one knows where the little shit is!

This fact annoyed Osiris more than Lye himself. Shinsou had seen what the sadistic bastard was capable of; he’d seen the indifference for humanity that had crumpled Amari's will like parchment. That Lye Ulroke was her master, willingly, and Shinsou was completely unable to keep his promise about nobody ever laying a finger on her ever again burned him inside like an inferno, but not being able to do anything about it infuriated him further. His mind spun, trying to process the note and Philomel's offer. Even if they joined forces, what was their play? It would never be as simple as flushing Lye out, luring him into a trap, and wiping him out. Why? Because even a dehumanised Ulroke, with all of his arrogance and power, was smart enough not to pop his head over the parapet.

The situation would need time and patience, and he had at least one of those in abundance.

Finally calming down, the Telgradian seated himself once again and reached for his quill and parchment. His reply would assure the faun of his survival, of his understanding of her situation with Celdandine and acceptance of her offer, but it would be kept short and to the point. Matters could be discussed at length later. There were plenty of Hand spies about to intercept messages, and even with the skilled Immortals entrusted with courier duties, one could not be too careful.

Philomel,

I hope this message reaches you in good health. I am alive and well, and we need to talk. I will send you an escort to Whitevale to ensure your safety. Meet me here and we'll set things in motion.

SvO