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.