Venture Into The Dark

[Bleater]

Closed to Fenris and Iain

"I'm glad you decided to come around," the dark elf says "I was beginning to wonder if I had made a mistake in approaching you. Thought perhaps you didn't have the stomach for it."

And this, dear chums, is how it feels like to wake up and find you're in your enemy's bed.

The Herzog's personal office is much different than the barren room he had questioned Steinbock in during their last encounter. (http://www.althanas.com/world/showpost.php?p=53726&postcount=7) Two days had passed before the engineer finally decided he would have no choice but to go along with the offer. Rich, dark linen tapestries drape the windows, blanketing out most of the sun, making the room very dim despite it being almost noon. Several small lamps adorn the walls to illuminate the surroundings, floor-to-ceiling bookcases full of ledgers, legal texts, records...

If this is how a Herzog's office looks, I can't begin to fathom what some of the higher-up blokes have for surroundings.

"Well, you made me think a lot with the words you had said. Opened my eyes and made me see Alerar in a way I hadn't since I first got here." The goat eases himself into a large chair across from Kresk's desk.

Oh, posh. I was hoping I would avoid that, not go make a total cock-up and step right into it.

"Yes... I had been meaning to ask you about that..."

The dark elf walks over to a cabinet built in the wall, pushing open the dark spruce panel and opening a storage compartment behind. He is busy rooting around in the cabinet with his back to William, the tail of his grey overcoat swaying behind him as there is a faint sound of glass clinking.

"Brandy?"

William smiles broadly. Even dispite the butterflies twittering in his stomachs and his bowels weighing heavy with nervousness, the thought sounds marvelous to him, and he is more than happy to oblige.

"I do say, it's a bit early in the day... but I suppose a little nip won't hurt. I do so very much enjoy a good brandy."

There is a gurgling sound as liquid pours from a bottle into a small glass, the drow turning and crossing the room with a clever grin.

"I know." His grin flashes of deception as he hands the glass over to the goat, who turns his hoof up flat to balance it on. The dark elf crosses the room again towards his desk, sliding around it and easing into his own seat, clasping his hands and setting them in his lap.

"I know a lot about you, Steinbock. More than you would think. But one thing bothers me... see, as much as I know, you never told me where it was you were from. I do know that you came to Alerar just a few months back. At least, that's when our people first started seeing you. I'm assuming a gentleman like yourself didn't get such fine grooming in a cave somewhere."

Oh, he's good. Trying to appeal to the proper gent in me. Pity for him, because I'm better at this.

"Fallien." The goat said. "Never much fancied the place, even a chap like me who was raised there couldn't get on well with the humans out there. I guess when you look like I do, you are considered as much of an outsider as someone not from the nation. I had always sought to emigrate, but when the dirty bit with the Harpies rose up, I took it as the final cue that it was time to get out of there while I could."

William had been ready for this question since yesterday, and had thought long about it. He definitiely couldn't tell the truth about being from Raiaera. Corone wasn't exactly the best answer to give, with the troubles there and the rumors of the Queen's loyals fleeing in that direction. Salvar would be too risky to say; being allies meant Kresk could easily check the story and find out it was fake. But Fallien was perfect; the Alerarans were generally ambivalent about them and there was a snowballs chance in hell that any inquiries made about him would even be answered.

The drow looks thoughtful over the answer, eyeing the goat cautiously for a moment before pursing his lips and nodding. "Fair enough. Had to ask, you know. Now... you've come to me because you want something of... substance. A way to put your skills to use for his majesty's great nation. And I have just the right 'project' for you."

William sighs with relief. The drow bought into it, so he's still safe for the moment. The dark elf pushes back his plush chair, rising from behind his dark red-brown desk. He motions with his hand for the engineer to follow, and William takes a hard last gulp, emptying the rest of the amber liquor into his throat. He'll need it.

"Come with me."

~~~

The two had left the building in the heart of Ettermire, returning to the machining sounds and the urban sprawl outside the doors. Now they walk down a neatly cleaned road, only traces of soot at the eaves and gutters of the grey stone street. Ahead of them not two blocks, a large ornate building stands, one that William had seen several times but never stepped inside of. Their destination. Ankhas.

"I have some plans I want you to look at for me. See if you can work on the design and specifics of them."

The engineer raises a curious eyebrow, tilting his horned head to the side to look at the drow as they strode down the road.

"A design for what?"

The dark elf looks out of the corner of his eye, not turning his head, but snorting as he quips back quickly.

"Does it matter?"

"Well, if you're going get my expertise on it, it would most certainly help."

The dark elf looks like he wants to either sigh with dejection or grumble with disdain. Either way, his face shows that he obviously dislikes someone questioning him. Still, he nods as if to acknowledge the point, looking ahead at the large library towering at the end of the street, not making eye contact as he speaks.

"Armor plating and mounting. We are trying to fit one of our trains with armor that could resist travels into Raiaera. While our steam trains are good now, they are not particularly suited for battle."

Why is it that as much as I want to ask if the train is meant to carry a weapon or soldiers, I would not get a proper answer in either case?

"With this design, we would have a train that could withstand attacks from the High Elves without being destroyed. However, the design is flawed, and we need to rework it. So far we haven't been able to turn this idea into reality, and that's where your 'expertise' comes into play."

His hooves clomping loudly on the steps leading up into the east entrance of the grand library, William looks up, leaning way back to take in the entirety of the building.

"Oh, right then. So I just pop in, look at these plans a bit, and let you know the part that's dodgy? Well, that certainly sounds like something I could handle."

The drow looks at him and shakes his head, gesturing that is not the case. For a second, the engineer thinks he sees a grin on Kresk's face as the dark elf continues walking up and into the building.

"It's not that simple."

[Bleater]

The pair make their way through the doors of Ankhas, the floors almost a teal marble color that looks fresh as the day it was laid. With light cascades in from the glass dome covering the reading room, and the two walk towards the middle of the structure. The Herzog tilts his head to the side and leans slightly, speaking out of the corner of his mouth to his capran companion.

"We brought the designs here and gave it to one of the custodians. He was to look over it, compare it to some of the texts we have on armor and machining and see if he could figure out the design flaw. As is usually the case, the job was passed on to his assistant. Three days ago, said assistant disappeared, and we haven't heard anything since."

The two continue, nearing a rich ebony desk, lined with silver carvings that create an ornate design wrapping the length of it. Despite trying to tread quietly, William's hooves click on the polished marble, and a drow standing at a bookshelf nearby looks up at him with irritation as they pass. From behind the immense desk emmerges a very aged dark elf, his spindly frey hairs barely clinging to his head in thin strands. Seeing Kresk approach, the custodian smiles broadly through missing teeth, reaching his hands out.

"Ah, Scalaar... een genoegen zoals altijd, mijn vriend."

The old drow clasps both hands around one of Kresk's, shaking gently. The official nods courteously, speaking softly.

"Het genoegen is namelijk enkel zo veel mijn. Ik hoop u goed nieuws voor me draagt."

It seems to take forever for the elder of the two to draw in a deep breath and issue a sigh, shaking his head with an upset look on his face.

"Ik heb nieuws, maar ik denk niet het goed is. Wij ontvingen woord van verkenners langs de noordelijke handelsroutes. Mijn medewerker werd gisteren gezien."

William furrows his brow, listening intently and locking his yellow eyes on the two dark elves. He is picking up every word but understanding none of them, seemingly tryign to see if he can suddenly grasp the drow language by merely listening to it. So far, it's not working. Kresk raises an eyebrow with surprise at the last statement from the custodian.

"Aan het noorden? Hij heeft in de bergen geleid? Aan Kachuck?"

The custodian nods, but then angles his neck upward, peering over the younger drow's shoulder at the goat standing behind them. William slinks back a bit as the old drow's eyes fall on him, suddenly feeling very uneasy.

"Dat wat ik eveneens... veronderstelde en wie dit is?"

Kresk turns his head back, looking out of the corner of his eye, seemingly having forgotten about the William. Finally being acknowledged, the goat stands up straight again, leaning his snout forward and speaking in a hushed voice to the official.

"What's he saying?"

His attention diverted for a second, the Herzog speaks out of the corner of his mouth, looking back over his shoulder.

"He says they've gotten word about where the assistant is."

William makes a serious face, nodding and looking very studious as he hears this.

"Ah, very good. And just where is he?"

Kresk turns his attention back to the custodian, not having forgotten his conversation with him.

"Dit is de ingenieur ik u over vertelde."

He motions with his head bobbing backwards in William's direction, the custodian giving the goat a cautious glance-over.

"Begrijpt hij wat wij zeggen?"

The younger drow just shakes his head negatively, giving a slight grunt. The custodian breaks his look from William and his eyes fall on Kresk sternly, his voice tone becoming more tenuous.

"Hij is een buitenstaander. Bent u zeker u vertrouwt op hem met dit?"

Kresk looks back at William for a second, seeming to contemplate the question that was asked of him. He turns, nodding firmly.

Something tells me this lot isn't talking much about that lad that's gone missing anymore. And from the sound of things, whatever's being said about me isn't exactly proper or pleasant.

"Niet volledig. Maar ik tref maatregelen om hem onder horloge te houden. Bovendien, als hij ontbreekt, zullen de dwergen hem hoe dan ook doden, zodat moeten wij niet ons over het ongerust maken."

The dark elf official turns on his heels, walking right past William as an untrusting glare comes from the eyes of the older dark elf. William's eyebrows raise and his mouth hangs a second in confusion. His hooves clatter as he rushes to turn and follow Kresk, who has a very brisk gait as they head back towards the entrance.

"Wait, now what did he say?"

The only thing fluttering back in the engineers direction are the tails of the Herzog's coat; his eyes certainly don't go back as he speaks.

"He says the assistant was seen going to Kachuck. Which means you will be going there too."

William hesitates, stunned by the statement.

"Pardon?"

The drow pushes the heavy doors open, the light from outside washing over him as he looks back at the goat frozen in his tracks.

"I'm going to send you out to find the assistant. Those plans are imperative, which is why I'm also going to arrange for you to be escorted there. Let us just hope that the dwarves didn't take exception to the assistant when he got to Kachuck."

The dark elf turns again, walking out of the building and down the stairs as William stays frozen in the library. He gives a hard gulp and feels sweat starting to rise around the collar of his neck.

Let us hope that they don't take exception to me, either.

Translations:
"Ah, Scalaar... a pleasure as always, my friend."

"Indeed, the pleasure is just as much mine. I hope you bear some good news for me."

"I have news, but I don't think it's good. We received word from scouts along the northern trade routes. My assistant was seen yesterday."

"To the north? He's headed into the mountains? To Kachuck?"

"That's what I assume as well... and who is this?"

"This is the engineer I was telling you about."

"Does he understand what we're saying?"

"He's an outsider. Are you sure you trust him with this?"

"Not entirely. But I'm taking measures to keep him under watch. Besides, if he fails, the dwarves will kill him anyway, so we don't have to worry about it."

[Fenris]

The door to the dim office opened fluidly below him. Fihrinn loved Alerarian hinges--so easy to open without making any noise.

The Herzog entered, closed the door, and crossed to his desk, opening the valve on one of his glass amber lamps. He started sorting through a stack of files, offering the wolf the perfect acoustic cover. Fihrinn lowered himself silently from atop the bookcase, where its shadow merged with that of a large tapestry.

His paws padded soundlessly over the strip of carpet running from the door to the desk, and as he approached the Drow's unsuspecting back the lamplight caught on his claws.

"When do we leave?"

"Vith!" The startled convulsion nearly levelled the Alerarian, and he spun. "How did you--"

"Come now, Herzog, that's what you pay me for." Fihrinn stepped around him to the other side of the desk, placing the claws of his left paw firmly on a map of Alerar. "When do we leave?"

The Drow sighed, still trying to calm his quaking heart. "As soon as the goat is ready, and the other escort prepared."

Fihrinn traced the road to Kachuck with his claw. "It's a bit of good fortune he's only going to the dwarves. It could have been worse."

The Herzog's brows creased. "How did you..." Then something like a growl rumbled from his throat. "Nevermind. We'll see just how good our fortune is, Armunn-Aoradh. I trust you'll keep the situation under control. If not--you are expendable."

Fihrinn shot him an acidic glare. "Of course. And what of the goat?"

"Yes, the capra." The Drow picked up his stack of files, squaring them against the desk. "I trust you'll keep that situation under control as well. I'm still not entirely sure about him--and my superiors are worried about his knowledge making it into Raiaerea. Should he try to escape during the course of this mission, you are to capture him and bring him back here. If that proves too difficult for you..." He set the files back on the desktop, meeting Fihrinn's gaze. "Kill him."

[Iain]

“Kresk. Herzog Kresk!”

Iain had to raise his voice to catch the official’s eye before he could slip away into the ever present crowds of the Ettermire streets. Iain had been instructed to meet the Herzog before the great doors of Ankhas at the stroke of noon, and the knight was right on time, as was his style. The Herzog must be distressed, thought the Salvarian, for him to have forgotten his appointment.

The drow noticed Iain immediately and a look of relief passed over his face. “Sir Detrius,” he said in common, “What a pleasant sight for my eyes. I am at my wit’s end! Come, we will converse in private.” He gestured to the knight with his hand, then turned on his heel and headed back up the stairs to the interior of Ankhas. He led Iain through the stacks upon stacks of records to a small room, which the Herzog opened with a key he carried on his belt. Once both had entered, the Herzog closed the door and spoke again to the young knight.

“My apologies for my lapse of memory. I appreciate your promptness, for there is a matter of utmost urgency at hand. You were contacted because of your good standing and reputation as a dependable man, and I am basing my commission of you on this reputation. Tell me, do you know anything about trains?”

Iain was a bit startled by the question. Instead of answering immediately and sounding like a fool, he paused, taking a deep breath and a moment to look around at the cubicle he had been ushered into. The room was extremely well lit, with some sort of glow-wyrm lamp fixed to the ceiling. It constantly emitted a horrible buzzing sound, but created enough light to eliminate almost all shadows in the small room. In the center of the cubicle was a high table, with a viewing glass on it for looking at scrolls and records. There was only one stool at this table, as the booth was meant for only one occupant, and as a matter of courtesy Iain remained standing.

“Unfortunately, I’ve never had the honor of experiencing one firsthand. In all honesty, Herzog, all that I know about the railroads is that one is going to be built through Salvar. I am a knight, not an engineer.”

The Herzog smiled. “Splendid. I already have an engineer, and one is plenty. Here is the scenario: Alerar has developed designs for a train of sorts for use in the near future. The assistant of the engineer in charge of this project has disappeared, and with him the blueprints. Your mission is to find the runaway, alive or dead, and retrieve the plans. Here is your train ticket, your party will depart from the station in Ettermire within the hour.”

The Herzog handed Iain a small square of parchment that had ONE WAY / ETTERMIRE-KACHUK / NON-REFUNDABLE printed on the front. He then opened the door of the cubicle and, with a sinister smile, motioned for the knight to make his exit.

[Bleater]

Clack clack Clack clack Clack clack Clack clack

The constant sound of the steel wheels of the steam train going over the rails resonates in the goat's passenger compartment. The sound of pistons grinding the wheels along hung over that, making the engineer wonder how he was supposed to get to sleep tonight. Even by train, the trip to Kachuck takes several hours, and as he looks out the open window of the compartment, he watches the last rays of the sun disappearing over the horizon. It creates the illusion of brilliant orange flames racing like tendrils across the violet skyline already dotted with stars. Pulling his monacle from his eye, William lets out a sigh, looking back to a small makeshift desk set up in the compartment, already covered with a few sizable books. The one on top has ratty yellow pages and long page of text, flanked on the page beside it by a small chart of numerical values.

This is getting me a right bit of nowhere.

With disgust, his hooves clatter against the steel floor as he takes a few steps over and squeezes between the desk and his cot- which has doubled as the seat for the desk- and shoves the book shut with a loud slap of the leather binding.

I can research the materials all I bloody want, but until I know if the problem is with the mounting or the frame or what have you, I'm not going to be able to figure this one out. Looks like I'll have to wait 'til I've got the plans to figure out what's dodgy and sort it out.

Looking across the "room" that was sepia-toned due to the lamp light, William shook his head. It was barely larger than a jail cell, and felt even more cramped, rocking back and forth with a metronome rhythm as they traversed the tracks. On one hand, he was getting the "royal" treatment by having his own compartment- his escorts would have to make due with the passenger compartment. Trading spaciousness for privacy. Still, William had determined when he first got on the train to dedicate time to preparing for the task at hand. The sooner they get the plans and he figures out what was wrong with the design, the sooner he can get back to Ettermire. His mind wanders to thoughts of the assistant, trying to deduct as much as he can in preparation.

If he went to Kachuck, then it's doubtful it's the plating method itself. The dwarves know about plating, but nothing to the extent of plating an armored train. That lot simply would turn balls-up for any answer he looked for on that one. Maybe it was the metal? If the metal being used wasn't working right, they'd have more expertise in it than him. Or even better, if he had already figured out the problem, he could have been going to place an order for the metal personally.

The answers don't bring him any closer to resolution, and in fact confuse him more. Exasperated, he makes his way to the door, pushing it open gently as he eases his body through. The passenger area is much larger than his compartment and doesn't have open windows, so it rides more quietly as well. Peeking out, he sees it is lit by a row of similarly orange lamplight, Throwing faint illumination on the pair that is riding inside.

Well, I guess time to meet the blokes that'll be escorting me.

Stepping fully into the compartment, he is already explaining himself before being asked- a bad habit his nervousness has cultured over the past few months.

"Hello, gents. Had to stretch the legs a bit. Not quite used to travel like this."

This much is true. This trip marks William's first ride in a train, however the novelty of it wore off after the first hour. Now, he stretches his two thin forelimbs out from his chest, the fabric of his vest straining against his torso as it expands. He errantly notices the metal of a brooch pin pushing against the fur atop his ribs, a small crest Kresk had pinned to his vest. It was an ugly yellow color with back paint, a crest signifying that he is acting on official Aleraran business. In theory, it might make the dwarves more cooperative. More likely- given their disposition to the drow- it's just as likely to act like a bullseye. Relaxing his muscles, the capran's yellow eyes drift over the two men in this large section of train.

His eyes first fall on a nicely dressed man in a white tunic. He looks over the pale man and his posture, scanning his features quickly.

This chav must be the finesse. A bit ragged, but decent enough to pass for a diplomat. No doubt he's been brought on as much for his sword as for whatever speaking may be done to the dwarves. Let's just hop they're quite willing to do more of the talking and that sword can stay put.

Drifting to the opposite side of the car, he sees the other man clad in leather armor, two large, oddly shaped knives on him. He's the larger of the two, and stands a full head taller than Steinbock were you not to include his horns.

Oh my, and this one must be the muscle. I certainly hope he was hired on to err on the side of caution for my behalf. I'd certainly hate the imagine that he's here because they're expecting enough trouble to warrant someone like him.

Tepidly his hooves move forward as he lets out a slight grunt and scratches his side with a hoof.

"Well, it looks like you lot are the ones I'm going to be working with on this little assignment. S'at right?"

[Fenris]

KA-chu-ka-KA-chu-ka-KA-chu-ka-KA-chu-ka...

Round, round, round with the wheels, and still it feels like we're going nowhere...

Fihrinn suppressed a groan, converting it into a rather accentuated exhale. Round, round, and around, and still it felt like he was going nowhere. In the employ of a Drow Herzog, hired by the great government of Alerar itself, off to confront a tribe of raucous dwarves to find a slippery machine-worker...

Why? Why?

A few odd jobs for the odd dark elf. A few coins, a few nice meals. And suddenly the Herzog himself was sending him on errands. But why? The coins made no difference to him. They were poisonous to him, for the sake of the moon. And meals? Myriads of forests filled Althanas, filled with every manner of hoofed creature, and his father had taught him to bring down each and every one of them. He didn't need their coins, and he didn't need their food. So why in the world was he here?

Another accentuated exhale.

If he thought hard, traced his steps...he didn't like to, really. It took him back to places he didn't care to...

Places he never, ever wanted to live through again. Places he prayed he remembered for the rest of his life, yet strived with all his strength to forget about once and for all.

It wasn't enough, now, to hide in a forest, crouch behind shrubs, and taste the wind for elkhide. Humans and kin like them had stolen his home, his family, his life...

He didn't need their money or food. He was a soldier against them, hidden in their own ranks, an agent in the war they eternally fought with themselves.

That. That was the 'why' he convinced himself of.

Hoofs. His ears lifted to attention and pivoted toward the doorway. The clops of the capran's footsteps echoed around the small chamber, and Fihrinn listened hard for the squeak of an opening window. He'd instructed the train's engineer to seal the compartment's windows before they embarked...but he had yet to ensure that his demand had been met.

Rather than the whine of a window hinge, though, he heard the axel of the doorknob pivot, and the goat-kin emerged into the passenger compartment.

He raised his head a little, though remained decidedly reclined on his back, his arms folded casually across his chest. The capran was short, but not entirely diminutive. The horns made quite the impression--almost as much as the engineer's absurd-looking eyeglass. Funny how the odd types always ended up as enemies of the state...

"Hello, gents. Had to stretch the legs a bit. Not quite used to travel like this."

Fihrinn laid his head back down and stared at the ceiling. The soft orange glow of the chamber made him think of roasted sunvine seeds. He never had taken a liking to those. Disgustingly salty and stalk-tasting. Made him feel like he was choking on air.

"Well, it looks like you lot are the ones I'm going to be working with on this little assignment. S'at right?"

He sighed. Roasted sunvine seeds.

His eyes never moved from their rivet point on the ceiling above him. "That is correct."