World History

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Solo. Set after How to Hire a Villain. Contains mature language.

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It was not a very large planet - in fact, by the intergalactic standards of the united planets and planetoids, it was a size 'titchy'. With three moons it had lively seas and treacherous shores, the tides unequal across the globe. The people of that world therefore mostly inhabited the inland areas, staying away from the coast. The greatest cities and kingdoms were those which made their homes in the mountains, the mightiest trade routes were those of mounts and firm roads. Progress had been made in breeding fine steeds, in establishing fine roads and industry that allowed for long land travel - but none was done on water. Though there were some water-dwelling intelligent races, they established more communities amongst their individual ones. And only in the cave systems of the water, that had some surfacing on land, was where the two worlds mixed.

This planet was harsh, but it was filled with life. In the last census of the largest continent, G'tev, there were two hundred and ninety three species known. This did not include the many other underwater races that the land-walking of G'tev had perhaps only heard rumours of. Neither did it speak of the possible others that existed on the other large continent, Mra-a, which could only be accessed by the few who flew. That was estimated to bare a further fifty species at least. Each race trying to find its niche, each separate people trying to keep their culture alive. In some ways it was madness, this tiny planet, in other ways it was murder.

For instance, no one ever spoke of the races who appeared one day ... And in months or years were gone again. No one ever mentioned them. As soon as they were gone, they were written from the history books. The confusion they brought at their sudden vanishing, the majority with no reasoning other than 'magic'. Any influences they had in their short lives were attributed to others, and though there was a secret knowledge that everyone had about these forgotten people, no one ever spoke about it. Because the priests ruled it shouldn't be. That the gods would be upset.

And their half children? Those that had been birthed by a mortal mother yet displayed the most incredibly feats of magic? They were either ignorant or arrogant, or both. The rare one who seemed to show promise as a future leader often would be found later in life drifiting through the uninhabited wilds, professing some madness about a man called ...

There was one such half child once. Her name was Ventrua. And it was said that she had been at the start full of promise. Born to be a queen, her people, the Hitarik, said. They hoped she would marry their king and rule their small kingdom that also had power over the Smari, the Marshkin and the Bin. But one day Ventrua left her home and walked away. Right after dinner, right in the dullness of dusk. She was not seen again, even after many passionate searches, until one morning when she came to the young prince, born of a woman who was not her. Bending down she told the boy that she knew the truth, that there was not many, many gods but one, and his name was -

"Ansaldo, but you know that."

Her newly enobled Lady Ventrua of the Heysan Estates lay back on her brother's finest sofa. Silver hair cascading like a waterfall across the embroidered fabric, she was a picture of new entitlement and pride. Nearby a chestnut-wood, four-legged and perfect square table held a large cerafe of wine along with a stained goblet. Three large glasses had she guzzled already but her spirit did not seem emboldened in any way.

Eyes flickering around the room, Ventura circled around the small sitting area (small compared to the rest of the house's rooms anyway), briefly re-discovering the chandelier, the panelled walls and the plush carpet. Roving past the two other long, plush armchairs in the room, she came to settle her site on the stiff-backed armchair that had now been permanantly inserted into the corner. And sitting in there, as per her usual Tuesday tradition, was the crow-humanoid being known as Stare, a huge leather-bound book on her lap, whilst her hands worked over a pile of papers on the table beside her. Every so often a quill was dipped in ink, and something was written in the tome.

"You are so boring, sometimes, Stare," Ventrua frowned deeply. "Here I am, telling you the story of our planet and you ... sit there. Writing."

"You know very well, my lady, that I am doing the house's accounts," Stare answered back, her deep dark eyes never leaving the pages. "Like I do every Tuesday afternoon. Which you know."

"You know," Ventrua waved out a hand and gestured at the kenku, dressed in a simple, long-sleeved tunic, but looking as finely combed, cleaned and neat as the rest of the nobles. "You really should watch your tongue. I am a lady now, and your master ..."

"If you came in here asking me to do your new estate's accounts again, the answer is still the same," Stare suddenly moved, her eyes flickering up to lock onto Ventrua's green ones. "The story of the planet I never was even more on ... I guess, thanks for telling me it, but you need to hire your own accountant. You have been left a mess of an estate to drag back into profit, one which you willingly took on. You wanted a business and a title, Vitruvion got them for you." The large beak clacked shut together for a moment, letting the sound echo around the room, before she continued. "Deal with them yourself. That is what he has said, that is what I am saying. For me to even begin to think about it ... it would leave me unable to actually do anything else useful for a full two weeks."

Ventrua watched Stare for a while, her painted lips hanging open for a moment. At first she seemed overcome, confused as if a dull wave had hit her into stupidity - but then she shook herself. Moving, she pushed herself up into a sitting position and began to sigh.

"But it is basically your responsibility. You killed Thesus Heysan. You ruined his family. You or that demon, whomever actually gave the final blow. Vitruvion - my brother and your master bought up and gave me the remains of the business, only because I wanted a project. But I did not know it was going to be in tatters, I did not know how much was going to be destroyed in my brother's thirst for vengeance."

An empty pause. Silence, except for the small, sharp scraping of a feather pen on parchment.

"Well?!"

"The Heysan Trading Estate was already ruined before we brought about the final collapse that left him bankrupt and ruined. For the last time, my lady Ventrua, no, I cannot help."

"But-"

"You are not getting her, Ventrua, not even for a day."

Both pairs of eyes - the endless black pits of the kenku and the green, pupiled ones of the half-goddess who could pass for a human - moved abruptly to the doorway, just where the fine, rich voice had come from. Standing there was the man they had both expected the voice to belong to, the one who owned the vast house where they stood, as well as various other legitimate and less legal projects over the city and beyond. Long, white-blonde and perfectly straight hair that framed a strong-chined face. Fathomless, sea-blue eyes that had captured many a young noblewoman's heart. A creaseless, deep blue, military-style long coat with shining bronze buttons and a stiff collar, with a flurry of a black cravat peeking at his throat and fine black breeches. All set with a gilded, brass and ebony wood cane, with a shaped horned owl head head, that was held at a proud but subtly threatening angle from his body.

Gaze flickering between the females, Sir Vitruvion Elssmith, lord of Elssmith Manor where they sat, the Elssmith lands, human-form-bound god and heir to a distant world with no real name, broke the silence.

"Not for the first time, Ventrua," he said, and he suddenly picked up the end of his cane to point at Stare. "She is mine. You want your own, then find one. There are plenty of kenkus over on the island of Corone, I have been told, and I am sure there are some stray other remnants of father's discarded races here. Possibly." He glared at Ventrua and lowered his cane. "But this one belongs to me, not you. As my last offer stood, you can have her for a day to briefly look over the accounts, but that is it."

Stare blinked, thinking, "great," but did not say more. Though she was watching, she was doing and saying nothing, knowing full well that this was Vitruvion's call, his fight. He went on: "You have the money yourself, you now have the title, thanks to me, and a business. But beyond that, get it working again, without my or Stare's help."

Ventrua postively looked disgusted. Slowly she stood, raising her chin, letting the folds of her gorgeous silk dress fall to the floor. Her hands formed delicate but powerful fists at her side, those which might look weak but could summon the force of a true divine wrath behind them. Eyes beginning to narrow her lips and lips beginning to move she began to draw the very energy from the room. Stare could swear she saw lines of hair-thin white energy beginning to draw power from the atmosphere itself, ones that seemed charged with a godly magic, and was touching the floor, ceiling, furniture, drawing the light in as the room began to dim, right into the woman's body and -

A sudden laugh, that broke the spell. Suddenly the lines were no more. Light returned, and everything was exactly how it had been. The chortle that was not kind, but rather heartless and demeaning was coming from Vitruvion, who was now walking right past Ventrua, his half-sister, over to another sofa, where he sank down and continued to mock her. His face was a mad twist of cruelty and amusement, that bore right at the woman whose magic had faded like a breath on the wild wind.

"Don't even try sister, especially not in my own home. Especially not in front of me. I have offered her for a day. I have even offered a small amount of money, though I know you have the funds yourself. Either get the business off the ground, or sell it to another. But don't try to blast that holy smite at me, I know what it is. And you know exactly who I am."

Gently he set the cane to the side of the sofa, resting it against the arm of the chair. And he raised an eyebrow at the woman, who was left there, fuming and wordless.

"Well?" he said, the smile still there. "What are you going to do?"

A moment of silence. Then Ventrua just shrieked. Screaming randomness at her brother she twisted sharply away, then flounced out, deliberately slamming the door behind her.

Once again stillness fell to the room. Stare blinked a few times, trying to comprehend fully what had just happened. Once again, for perhaps the tenth time now, Ventrua had come into the Elssmith manor that lay in the finer residential heart of Beinost, only to ask for her brother to essentially do the job of raising the Heysan Trading Estate back from the bankruptcy tht it had been left in. What that required was Vitruvion allowing Stare, his now accomplished steward after six months at the job, to work for Ventrua, and give all the accounting skills and resources that she had built up over the time. But Vitruvion would not budge. For him, and for Stare, the work needed was far too much, and would need a lot more than simple numberwork. It would need at least two weeks of accounting, then a further month of organisation and from that at least a year of intense negotiation and stress to get the business back to working order.

Something that neither Vitruvion nor Stare truly wanted to do. For one of their rare moments they had entirely agreed on the matter.

"Well," Vitruvion said, after a long many minutes of paper shuffling and pen scratching. After Ventrua had stormed out, Stare had simply just returned to the accounts. After all, they needed to be done. The week had actually been rather taxing on the household after Mrs Deerling, the excellent cook, had taken ill, and one of the gardeners had run off with a local butcher.

"What?" Stare grunted, her eyes boredly flickering over the book and sheets.

"I am saying, 'Well,'" Vitruvion replied, leaning over to where Ventrua had left the wine. Pausing, he took it to sniff the open top, then nodded and swigged the contents into his mouth, straight from the bottle. "As in, 'Well, that may have sorted that.'"

"You said I would initially look over the accounts for her?" Stare asked, feeling irritated then.

Vitruvion shrugged, in the most elegant manner possible as he leant back. "I can spare you for a single day, my dear. Just not for the year or so that she really wants you for."

"And you did not bother to ask me," she muttered, shifting aside a laundry list to find what had been bought by the maid at the supply store the previous day.

There was a pause. A single long silence that was filled with emptiness and a nagging feeling in her mind that Stare should look towards him. So she did. And saw that godly face looking back at hers, a single eyebrow arched over intense eyes. Suggestive. Obvious.

"Right, whatever," she grunted, looking back away, back to the book. "You never need to."

"Exactly," Vitruvion inclined his head, leaning back again. "Exactly."

He sat there until she was done. Properly, it took her another half an hour to shift through all of the purchase lists, meal plans, unexpected costs, bills and finances, both legal and illegal, that had been pushed through the manor's books. It was mostly for the fact that Vitruvion used the manor for a front of some of his darker projects that Stare needed to do it every week herself. Before she had been part of his retinue, apparently it had been Raevin, Vitruvion's military captain and martial steward, who had done it, alongside a private accountant who had needed to be bribed, constantly. But now she was here, things ran smoother, and her skills in financial matters had become somewhat expert.

When she finally closed the massive book and set it aside, Vitruvion moved. In the near instant that she had sighed inwardly, he sat up, placing the now empty wine carafe back onto the table. Leaving it for one of the three maids and single footman to clear up. As Stare neatly piled the papers on top of the others, and then wiped the end of the feather pen clean he stood, taking up his cane, and actually waited for her to be completely finished.

Omninous as a dead body appearing at your front door.

"... What is it?" Stare asked, knowing that his waiting for her was by any means not pretense. It was wholly and entirely deliberate, which meant he had something, likely drastic, for her to do.

"Well, firstly, I have papers for you," he said, keeping eye contact with her as she very cautiously picked up the book and other items into her arms. "Secondly, we need to talk about your new abilities."

Her beak opened slightly, "New ... what?"

He waved a hand regally at her, gesturing for her to follow. Lowering her single, massive brow, that was laden with feathers and was the real only obvious indicator of any emotion on her face, besides her eyes, Stare picked up her feet and angled her body out from the narrow corner. Vitruvion began sauntering forwards, his cane clacking on the ground as he did - a sound which had once filled her with crippling anxiety every time she heard it. Now ... now she just felt her heart either race, sink or boredly continue to thump, depending on the situation, but each expecting, each not as intense but simply reactionary. They moved into the grand main hall of the house, which was a light room, lit by the huge windows to the front door, and open, and four massively, and elaborately decorated marble pillars in the centre. It had a twisting, oppulent, main staircase from it, that led up to the second floor and rooms therein. Only a few tables and sculptures were in this room, all set aside and adorned with flowers as befitting a nobleman's home, and it acted not only as the entrance way, but also the crossroads between many of the main rooms. Across the hall Vitruvion went, straight to the library that dominated the entire stretch of the west side of the bottom floor - aside from one small area. Stare only caught a brief glimpse of the many shelves and the bay window to the south, before he led her through a futher door and into the tiny, private study at its head. A room that few were allowed in, including her.

He stopped, yet she continued further in, moving past him with her light, lithe body towards a floor to ceiling set of deep-coloured shelves on the right hand side. In it, many large tomes, similar to the one she held, were set and labelled. Easing the current one in her hands into the gaping obvious space where it lived Stare finished her work for the afternoon, letting out a sigh of relief as she did. The pen, ink and papers she set down on a lower shelf, for the moment forgetting about them.

Click, click.

Turning, she saw Vitruvion closing the door behind them, sealing them both inside. She paused, her brow creasing once more in concern and confusion, before he stood straight again and walked, heading to the left hand side of the room now, where a large, many drawered, dark-wood desk was, and behind it a heavy chair. This he sank into, and he took a moment to just smile at her, before nodding at her waist. Stare glanced down, and saw a new item of furniture in the room - a small, but suitable chair. She grunted, sank into it and looked right back.

"As I said, firstly ..." he used his hand that was not still wrapped around his cane to take up an ivory set of papers from in front of him on the desk. They were folded in a careful way, the outside one with a broken seal attached to it - clearly a letter. With a fine quality to the paper they seemed more than enough to be official documents, and the change in styles, size and elegance of the writing upon them suggested that also. Gently spinning them around with his long, pale fingers, Vitruvion's eyes began to gleam and a smile appeared on his face. He pushed the papers towards her.

"Have a read, my dear."

Interest and concern thumping through her blood, Stare leant over from her seat, actually taking a moment to pull it closer to the desk. As her eyes touched the paper she was filled with a great excitement as to what it could be, her eyes simply picking out odd words at the start, wathing how the different forms went from official calligraphy, to more scrawly hand writing. There seemed to be parts printed, such as a section that had a request for 'Description of Subject' as well as various headings and ...

Then her eyes found the top of the paper, way to the top where the heading was proclaimed. 'Issued by the official courts of Hernsford,' it proclaimed, 'Document for official international recognition of ownership of subject to master, officialised in exchange of monetary value and-'

"You are fucking kidding me," she cursed, her eyes suddenly swimming to utter darkness, and rising to meet his.

His blue eyes twinkled, and a broad smile was splendidly attendant on his face. "No, I am not," he replied, a line of utter delight in his voice. "It took intense bribery, a series of magically designed portraits of yourself and me to be sent, and a good few months to actually have the issue go through the courts, but indeed," he reached over and slipped thumb and finger around the top of the page. "I have succeeded in indirectly, for one of the first recorded cases ever, in petitioning Hernsford for official ownership."

"But you are not even a resident there!" she yelled, "You said that it would take a month to buy a house and live there for a while and-"

"I have a friend called Maester Rafael, who works as both merchant and official in the courts," Vitruvion shrugged, tugging on the paper. It began to slip from under her hand but Stare slammed down her palm flat, causing it to stop slipping. Vitruvion frowned a little, but continued his description. "He managed to buy a house in my name for me, without me being there, interring me as a resident. In that way I could then process you as my property, under that residency and ... well."

He tried to pull on the paper again, but her hold was firm and determined. Her stare was terrifying. It would have made any usual person relive their literal worst nightmare - aside from Vitruvion. He simple laughed, closed his fingers tighter and plucked the sheet from under her, sliding it out with ease. She managed to drag a claw over it as it did, carving a long strip and a shrrkk of sound in the air. Vitruvion just smiled wider.

"There is a second copy in the courts at Hernsford itself, and more copies elsewhere, so no matter what descruction you might try to take out on it, it is done my dear. You are officially my property. Just as I promised all those months ago."

"You are a fucking bastard," she slumped back, watching as he began to fold the now impure parchment away. Her eyes found the words under the area it said, 'Description of subject,' that said, 'Kenku. Four foot ten and a quarter. Currently seventeen years of age. Emerald green feathers at neck, muscular build. Small-' but then it was folded shut and the whole document was pushed smartly and proudly into a drawer.

"This you have told me many a time," Vitruvion answered, "And really, Stare, there is no difference. I am your god. It is more of a legality ... a question to others if we ... for instance ever got separated somehow. I could hire bounty hunters, and they would keep you well and safe for me, rather than letting you come to harm. For any idiot knows a master prefers his slaves well and whole. So really ... this is a good thing for you. It gives you a certain degree of security."

She groaned and shoved a hand over her eyes. "I hate you. Absolutely loathe you."

"Hmm, and I hate you often, also," the god nodded. "But - we benefit one another. You would be nothing still without me, just a baker's assistant forgotten in this city. Instead, now, you are a steward to a very well-respected noble house, you have a very decent salary I should say, you have more power than you ever thought possible, and I ... well I get you. Your abilities, your sight, your undying loyalty ...

"Mine."

For a long while she sat there, slumped back in her chair and arm cast over her eyes, not wanting to look at him. No noise came from her also, aside from her heavy breathing. All in all she had been known this was coming. His instances of one day taking her to Hernsford Port, an independent city state and island in the ocean to the east that was the only society nearly fully built on the backs of slaves, and funded by a thriving slave trade - and the only place where you could buy an internationally recognised slave - had been many. Ever since he had decided to transfer her from Hollow to manor house. For him it was more than just the legal status, and she knew it, had to admit it. For him it was the structure of owning something he had been denied by his father, and being responsible for it.

Ever since his father and single parent, the lone god Ansaldo, had banished Vitruvion from his realm with declerations that, "This mightiest of projects had failed," and that, "It was a mistake - two gods can't rule a planet after all," Vitruvion had searched for a way to fulfill his destiny. It had been hampered by the fact that upon arriving on Althanas, that the vast patheon of gods already residing there had deemed Vitruvion impossible to try to play a part, and comdemned him to be trapped in a physical form - and bound to secrecy as to his real identity. At first Vitruvion had created the Hollow - the ex-catacombs turned prison and sexual pleasurehouse, and his personal empire - but that had only gained him coping for so long. When he and Stare had discovered their true connection - that her race was from Ansaldo's planet also, and likewise banished, Vitruvion believed his destiny had finally begun. He claimed Stare as his own, calling himself her 'god' because there was no one else to take a diety's place in her life. For him, Stare had to admit, the whole Hernsford matter was about him declaring himself her god publicly, but in the only way he could without without breaking the rules of the pantheon.

In her heart, understanding and pity writhed for the man sitting across the desk from her, no matter how much she swore she hated him. Despite everything he did, and everything cruel he was responsible for, Stare had respect for the man, and comprehension for way Vitruvion lived his life.

"I did tell you it was coming," he said quietly once more. His voice strangely sounded concerned. Maybe he was only seeing the pain she felt right now, and not the thoughts swimming in the deeper, considering part of her mind.

Slowly she let out a sigh and lowered her arm. Her eyes opened, and she rubbed her beak, skin running down the smooth, long form.

"Yeah, you did," she admitted, raising her eyes to meet his. "Can we just keep it private please, unless, as you say, you need to use it."

Vitruvion regarded her a moment, his blue eyes patient and studious. Then he inclined his head once, elegantly. "Very well. Unmentioned it becomes. It will be easier for avoiding questions, still allowing you respect from your guards ... and so on. Like your cuff, which we have agreed is a one to one decisionary basis, when we agree."

"Like if I want to rant about you."

"Indeed," he smiled, then he lowered his hands so they both rested on the top of his cane. "So you are accepting of the situation?"

Stare nodded, and ran her hand through the feathers at her head. "I am. It is done, I understand the reasons for it, we move on."

"Exactly," the god agreed, "Now, the other subject I wished to talk to you about. Your powers."

"What about them?" she asked, eager for the change in conversation.

"You have started to see people's chakras, their magic and energy, I think. That, and managed to stun my sister."

Silence fell like an executioners axe, swift and judgemental. No breaths could be heard - on his part none were taken. One thing Stare had learnt in the past few months, and had sometimes still be shocked by, was because Vitruvion's body was fueled by raw divine energy he did not need to breathe, aside from to talk or out of wanting to seem mortal. With her his relaxed state seemed to take hold, and it had become a unique view to see the man entirely still, including the rising and falling of his chest. His eyes stared, truly, the minor muscles of his body that would otherwise twitch in a normal man simply fell away. Instead, he fell to full silence, gazing back with the absolute patience of a man who could literally wait forever.

Her on the other hand - she needed to breathe. Her body and her mind needed oxygen. Eventually she gasped, and her rate rose to thunder in her earlobes, violently shouting out it's exhileration as she considered what he had just said.

"I did .... what? But Ventrua is ... is, well half-"

"Goddess, indeed," Vitruvion spoke slow, his chest suddenly moving again as he filled his lungs with more air, in order to vibrate his vocal chords for speech. "Fairly powerful, rather closer to my level than you might expect, considering her half that is mortal. But indeed, she should be able to resist anything that you throw at her. But yet ..." He smiled slightly. "You had her stunned, my dear. Entirely caught, for a single second, but that was all that was needed. You remember, do you not? When you were telling her to deal with the accounts herself ..."

Stare blinked as her mind whirled back. Brow furrowing she tried to think of the time when she had done such a thing, and it had left Ventura dumb, stuck in that glazed over way that others she had stunned before, using the anger within. Searching, she tried to honestly remember, but the whole conversation had been so rapid and since then much more important issues had come to her attention - like the damn document.

"Here," he grunted, and the second finger of his right hand twitched. The same finger that had a dull grey metal ring on it, the same one that merged his mind to hers. Immediately an image filled her mind, of Ventrua at its centre. There she was, sitting ragged, breath short and sharp, eyes wide and dulled, lips open. Framed in it she was the picture of a perfect example of Stare's ability, an identifying marker of one of her genuine victims.

"You were watching?" Stare looked up to him, her eyes round like perfect pearls. For the image of Ventrua was clearly from his memories.

"Of course. I was looking for you anyway to give you news of your circumstance change. And I thought that particularly interesting." He reached up to flick a strand of hair back over his shoulder. "So, your stunning ability has grown. It is connected to your hatred yes?"

Slowly she nodded. And he smiled.

"Wonderful. Well you have more reason to hate me now, as you said before. That and every cruelty done to you by me and others in the Hollow, hate that. It is possible either your hate has grown, and that is fueling it, or you are merely more powerful."

Stare said nothing. In all honesty she did not want to admit that her hate for him had significantly deminished since leaving the Hollow. It was a horrible thing to even admit to herself, let alone others, mentally or verbally. Everything had changed for her since then - her life, her personality, her skills, her responsibilities. Vitruvion had said it, and she accepted it: he had given her a good life now. In that way her attitude towards him had altered. Yes, she still called him a bastard and a knobhead, but genuine regard had come to replace detest, and good esteem had taken away her single desire to see him suffer.

These things she did not want to admit, but she knew Vitruvion had seen them in time. Yet, he did her dignity of not mentioning them and merely raised his eyebrows slightly before moving on.

"You also saw my sister's magic before it was performed."

Now that brought her out of this most recent thought pattern. Her own brow rose high, staring back at him with new shock.

"What do you mean?"

"The bright white lights you saw, extending from her, I did not see, Stare," he spoke slowly and calmly. "The lines, going up her arms, connecting to the environment ... that was not normal. In fact she had not even performed the spell then. She was merely preparing for it, which should have no real effect on the world, other than the physical symptoms. By her. Or unless a particular type of magic allows for that. But holy smite ... that is a basic divine ability, and though it does take energy from the world around you in order to cast a blow to another, it does not appear like that. Ever."

"But -the lights dimmed!" Stare protested, sitting up straighter. "They physically shifted to a darker setting, and then brightened again when you made her release the magic."

For a moment Vitruvion paused, and he frowned slightly before Stare felt a heavy mental nudge against her conciousness. Figuring out what he wanted did not take long, for he was already talking about the same exact scene. Therefore she let her personal memory of seeing Ventrua gather the energy to cast the magic, and the spiderweb-like veins of white light runnning from her. She also pushed the focus to the atmosphere of the room itself, showing how the light, mostly artificial for there were no windows in the room, significantly fell in their brightness.

"Ah," Vitruvion nodded, "Must be another indication of magic occurring. More useful for those you cannot identify certainly. You see this-" he showed a memory to her, overcasting her own forcefully with a still of his. It showed a different angle of Ventrua, standing there with her fists - but with no weave of light lines surrounding her. There were not even the veins flowing into her body or around, and there definitely was not an alteration in the normal luminescence of the room. "Is what I saw, what I imagine my sister saw. You can see the magic building, Stare, see the build around her. In fact I would dare to say that in your aura sight, that glow of energy flowing through a person is indeed their magical power and energy. Tell me, what colours have you begun to see?"

Stare blinked slowly and dropped her eyes. Sighing, she thought back to the recent times she had used her ability to see others auras - literally their souls, it turned out - and by the colour of them find out their personalities. Also there was a pulsating glow from the heart - the more white it was the more honest they were being and were, in general. The darker it was the opposite was true - they were liars. By instinct she could tell in this sight also if they were male, female, both or neither, and how old exactly they were. But recently, especially, she remembered in concern to a particular demon by the name of Nosdyn that her and Vitruvion were now familar with, and a man named Nevin, her aura sight had slipped slightly. In both those individual cases Stare had clearly seen a shimmer of pattern within them that connected to the magic they could be associated with. Nevin flowed with blood red veins - he was a blood mage - and Nosdyn flowed with black - he was a demon, and a user of darker magics. Ventrua's magic had been white, most likely because it meant her magic was divine, which was the force behind her, after all. It made sense, then to assume that all magics and energies - even flows of power that gave strength to limbs and muscle - could be attributed to a colour from which their power came. Crimson red was blood magic, black was dark, white was godly. A hot orange, probably flickering, Stare could imagine to be fire and a white-blue ... ice?

"I agree," Vitruvion spoke knowingly. "Obviously more study will help us to ascertain which exact colours mean what, and what happens if they have no particular source at all, just as we did with the general aura, but I do agree. Knowing also when a being is preparing a spell is exceptionally useful." He leant forwards, "You are doing well, Stare, very well."

A gaze of discomfort flittered through her eyes, as she felt the discomfort of not knowing what was doing on precisely with her body still. But she lifted her eyes and settled them to his. Gently, as he could do, he smiled, and gave her a confident nod.

"You keep proving to me, my dear, that my instincts about you were correct, and that I was right to bring you into my household as I did. Making my bond stronger with you is necessary, fundemental in our relationship and how we build from here on in. I am already working on a ritual to rid you of that cuff and me of this ring ... though that will be some time more. Even years to store up the amount of magic to be required." He gazed at her intently, watching her steady expression and then he straightened.

"Aside from that, I will tell you what I have discovered," he moved his hands both from the cane, letting the owl-headed object balance against the desk. "I, you see, have found some increasing abilities of my own." He paused, grinning at her widening eyes. "Indeed, me. As if I was not powerful enough. But," he raised his chin slightly. "It seems your being here has also benefitted me. The things I have noticed have been increasing for some time now, perhaps six months or so, but only now do I truly understand what they are.

"I am beginning to be able to see the past of my father. What he created, how he created, the entire history of his planet. And of my studies in the months, I do not think he can notice me there, so either it is memories of my own, passed down to me that I am accessing, or I am immune to any detection he may have. Either way, my physical understanding of the sciences and structural engineering of existence has ... well alerted entirely. Nothing in any book I have read or any experiement I have seen comes close to the comprehension I have been able to begin to gather."

Stare simply ... stared, her huge black eyes endless in awe and complete stupefaction. Perplexed, bewildered, astonished, in wonder ... she was all of these things and more. Here he was, a man above men, an actual god sitting across from her in the chair, telling her that he had been able to figure out what actually made the universe work. Something that not even the bravest of mortal minds had begun to think about yet, let alone figure out the mathematics to.

"... Why ... why are you telling me this and not - not Ventrua right now, or Raevin or ...?" she could not thinnk of anyone else. Her eyes blinked what seemed a thousand times before she huffed, "What the actual fuck, Vitruvion. What is going on?"

"It began with mere flickering images in my dreams, my dear, and do not use my name like that," he frowned a little as he chided her. "But I have been working on it to the extent, now, where I am almost fully able to access what I can suitably reach. Still far from being able to sift through all the knowedlge there, but I can summon easily anything that I have seen before. I will not go into the understanding with you, for it will distract you from your duties, however I am letting you know." He lifted a brow, "And how do you know that I have not told my sister or Raevin yet?"

The kenku paused, "I don't ..."

"Exactly. Though, I have not, and for purposes I will now explain. You see," he gestured to her, "My new insight alligns very neatly from the time when we discovered your species connection with myself. When you and I acknowledged I was your god. Had to be, after all my father abandonded you. I suspect that my gaining of my first ... subject," he smiled subtly at her, his voice clear and very much pleased, "That it opened up this portion of me that either had the memories already, or could access Ansaldo's. I am a god, have always been, but you are my first proper claim. My first realisation. In this spirit, I am now a god in all senses of the word, apart from this damn fucking body I am trapped in," his voice slipped into disgust for a moment, then out again. "I have not told others, even my sister ... or perhaps especially my sister, because they would find no use in the facts and it is not in their right really. But you brought me this knowledge, I believe, and since you have already proved yourself trustworthy ... well."

Gently he leant far over the table and ran a light hand over her head, smoothing the feathers down, like a loving father, a lover or a man to simply wanted to patronise. "You see, Stare, when you are now on missions for me I will able to advise in more ways than I have done ever before. I can give you the literal scientific build of any creature you face. You are the paladin I intend never to have, my right hand that brings my wrath."

She sat there a while, in honest, stunned silence. The two of them were both patient, willingly at times slow, creatures and so nothing passed between them as nothing needing to. Eventually his hand moved from her head, calmly teasing out her feathers, before he leant back in his chair. He kept observing her, hands now raised to steeples, elbows resting on the arms of his seat. She, however, dropped her gaze, moving around slightly to focus instead on the narrow window before her.

It had been lighting their way this entire time, the soft, natural gleam coming from it. But the swooping folds of curtain that draped over it from ceiling to floor were half-lowered in any case. It meant that at a walking head height, even at Stare's smaller frame, one would not automatically notice the sweeping world beyond the window. Instead, one would only see a few metres of tiny stones and inches of of weeds.

Now, sitting, she could observe the land beyond. The space before her was the vast drive of the manor house, with a large curle of gravel making up a way for carriages and horses to maneouver. A small stone set perfectly in the centre of this fast rotunda and had a sundial rested atop, all made of a light beige marble. Beyond the gravel stretched grass, to unseen lengths beyond the side of the house, and to a limited degree at the direct opposite to the study window by a large, forest-green hedge. Situated in this mighty, ten-foot-tall border was a set of wrought iron gates, proudly standing, strong and resilient, that had stood the tests of a needy horse or two but would likely never need to bother with the trials of war.

A soft sigh emptied from her lungs and she looked down at her clawed hands, their curled digits a tangle of harm and protected strength. Carefully she blinked, thinking of everything that had led her here, and everything that had happened since. Especially today. Examining the creases and high places of her gnarled hands she imagined what life would have been had she stayed back as a karegeta back in her homeland but ...

That was not now. It was not today. It was not worth thinking about.

"Wine," Vitruvion softly ordered.

And Stare nodded, and stood. Moving over to the shelf where she had deposited the book, paper and pen, she went down to the bottom shelf and pushed past crumpled sheets before she found a small wine bottle plus a glass. Bending over, she picked it up, and without a word she uncorked it and poured the glass full of dark red liquid. Then she returned to him, her master and her god, and held out the single cup, offering it with a dulled look in her eyes.

Vitruvion smiled kindly, and leant to take the wine. Then he drank, and he paused.

And finally he spoke again.

"Thank you, my dear," he said. "Thank you."

Stare receives 1300 EXP and 150 GP.

All rewards have been added.