Post by LiquidChicagoTed on Jul 30, 2019 15:27:45 GMT
Act 1: Return of the Darkness
Chapter 2: Undying Greed
Chapter 2: Undying Greed
“When the temptress of bodies creates a body for the tempter of worlds...”
- The Al’Anfanian Prophecies, Verse III: Of the downfall’s servants, Second Sentence
“Though written history of the high elven empire has grown rare after its end, we have been able to reconstruct a fair amount, be it through dangerous expeditions deep into their ruined cities, or through oral traditions, passed down through the elven tribes for generations. There are some striking and, frankly, concerning similarities in each of them. They tell of one individual, an enemy to the elven race, even above all the enemies they have faced in their history. An almost demonic archetype within their stories, so to say. An elven woman in shape, the most beautiful of their kind, but with a mind of darkness, a vile twist on the light that gave birth to the first of the high elves. Each legend has its own name for this creature, but the similarities are undeniable. The oldest fragments call her Pyrdona, perhaps hinting at a connection to the infamous golden dragon of legend, but others tell of Brthona, the Blinder, the Temptress, Bringer of Desires, She-Who-Poisons-The-World and the Tongue of the Nameless God. Bhardona is a name still uttered in uncharacteristic hatred by the Rime Elves of our present day. The common tongue of the Middenrealm would pronounce the name slightly different, the first syllable just a little bit harder, but that is a topic for a later chapter. What I wish to discuss first is if there is a connection between the semi-mythical Bhardona, this intangible enemy of the contemporary Rime Elves and the Pyrdona of High Elven legend, who allegedly caused the fall of ancient Ometheon and Simyala, if they are, perhaps, even the same person and if that person, as one of her many names hints at, is connected to - may the Twelve have mercy - the Nameless One. If this is the case, if she is more than just a legend, then she is one of the oldest beings in this world and undeniably one of the greatest threats we have to face in these troubled days..."
- Excerpt from 'The Shadow War – Elven conflicts of the current day and their influence on political and economical matters of the realms of man', written by Jesko of Korbrook, Spectability of the Seminar of Elven Communication, Thunderbrook, 1003 BF
Helwen Kerling, farmer, Rudein, vanished RON 1016 BF
Mattos Tumbling, stonemason, Oldnorthing, vanished RON 1016 BF
Thora Tumbling, stonemason, Oldnorthing, vanished RON 1016 BF
Finnick the Tobrian, carpenter, Oldnorthing, vanished RON 1016 BF
Alfarna of Baernsteyn, Dame of the Order of Thunder, Menzhome, vanished RON 1016 BF
Wulfric Thurner, construction worker, Oldnorthing, vanished RON 1016 BF
Sella Odarsdottir, washing woman, Menzhome, vanished EFF 1016 BF
Norris Wheatfield, peon, Oldnorthing, vanished EFF 1016 BF
Maurice, beggar, Rudein, vanished EFF 1016 BF
Lucia Hillhunter, farmer, Oldnorthing, vanished EFF 1016 BF
Ellard Hull, guardsman, Menzhome, vanished EFF 1016 BF
Nadarie Coppersmith, huntress, Menzhome, vanished EFF 1016 BF
Mary, tavern wench, Oldnorthing, vanished EFF 1016 BF
Odric Stone, guardsman, Menzhome, vanished EFF 1016 BF
Mattos Tumbling, stonemason, Oldnorthing, vanished RON 1016 BF
Thora Tumbling, stonemason, Oldnorthing, vanished RON 1016 BF
Finnick the Tobrian, carpenter, Oldnorthing, vanished RON 1016 BF
Alfarna of Baernsteyn, Dame of the Order of Thunder, Menzhome, vanished RON 1016 BF
Wulfric Thurner, construction worker, Oldnorthing, vanished RON 1016 BF
Sella Odarsdottir, washing woman, Menzhome, vanished EFF 1016 BF
Norris Wheatfield, peon, Oldnorthing, vanished EFF 1016 BF
Maurice, beggar, Rudein, vanished EFF 1016 BF
Lucia Hillhunter, farmer, Oldnorthing, vanished EFF 1016 BF
Ellard Hull, guardsman, Menzhome, vanished EFF 1016 BF
Nadarie Coppersmith, huntress, Menzhome, vanished EFF 1016 BF
Mary, tavern wench, Oldnorthing, vanished EFF 1016 BF
Odric Stone, guardsman, Menzhome, vanished EFF 1016 BF
- Excerpt from the list of people who went missing in the Barony of Menzhome within the months of Rondra and Efferd, written by Dustward of Mersley-Boarstribe, Baron of Menzhome, to the desk of Duke Waldemar, Meadows, 1016 BF
“When the heretic enslaves the heretic, the white fur of the bear shall be red with blood and it shall be her blood and not hers and the formless dread shall take on dreaded form”
- The Oracles of Fasar, Verse II, Fourth sentence
“The identity of Korobar's accomplice from the Drakesfield case is not entirely clear, but the subject seems to answer to Edmond. Last name unknown. My advice would be to investigate within the guilds of magic for any student, past or present, who is known under that name. Particular focus should be the black guild, for several of its members, even high-ranking officials, have concerning ties to the Borbaradian cult, sometimes with the knowledge and even support of southern rulers, especially within the city states of Meridiana. Noteworthy are Menchal ak'Taran, head of the alchemists guild of Mengbilla, who holds a seat within the Concilium Sinistrae, Karjunon Silverbrow, who currently resides as a guest of Convocatus Primus Savertine in Mirham and Irshan Perval, Grand Executor of the Al'Anfanian empire, each of whom has been linked to the Borbaradian cult or their benefactors in the past. These subjects and their allies are dangerous, well-connected and powerful, so I starkly advice against a direct confrontation, your eminence. Instead, I propose the use of deep cover agents within their ranks for the purpose of infiltration and sabotage”
- Update to High Spymaster Dexter Nemrod concerning the Drakesfield case, written by Delian of Plainsbridge, Inspector for Arcane Crimes, Middenrealm Intelligence, 1016 BF
“Then, then second of the Marked Seven shall appear and her mark shall be the creature and the knowledge of HIS form”
- The Oracles of Fasar, Verse II, Fifth sentence
Punin, the Kingdom of Almada
The year 1016 after Bosparan's Fall
Five months after Borbarad's Return
The year 1016 after Bosparan's Fall
Five months after Borbarad's Return
Edmond
In his past life, Edmond had thought of a secret cult meeting as a dark and quiet occasion, something that was held in hidden caves, remote cottages or in the sewers beneath the city. That was how the novels had always depicted it. When it came to the Borbaradians, however, they rarely met in any remote place and certainly never in a sewer. Though held in secrecy, today's occasion came as close to an official reception as possible.
Edmond arrived in Punin as the last rays of sun faded behind the foothills of the massive Rashtul Wall. Being back at the place that changed his life was an uplifting experience. He had been a nobody before Punin, just a common boy from Meadows, seemingly destined to wither away as a farmhand for his parents and later his brother. His studies at the academy had changed him. Even then, he had been a nobody among mages until he met Liscom and his true destiny.
The capital of Almada had changed little since he had last been there. It was the second largest city in the Middenrealm, only behind Gareth. And where Gareth was the emperor's seat, Punin had long since been the seat of his heir. Gareth was a beast of a city, with thick, impregnable walls and narrow, cluttered streets, home to a million people with all of their noise and stench. Though second-largest in the realm, Punin housed barely half of that number and it was stretched wide over the fertile Yaquir plains. And though Gareth was undeniably the political centre of the realm, it paled next to Punin when it came to knowledge and beauty, to art and culture.
Wide streets of white marble, tall, broad buildings made of sandy stone, with red roofs. The architecture was dominated by high arches and columns, while the streets were always impeccably cleaned. Of course, the city had its darker sides as well, the poorer quarters beyond the city walls, dirty and overcrowded, but they were far away from where he usually went. Within the walls, Punin was perfect.
Needless to say, this city was one of Edmond's favourite places in this world. It was a city of magic, a city of science and wonders and not even the questionable company of Urdo of Gisholm and Korobar was able to dampen his mood, as the trio rode through the wide, open streets of Sereno, one of Punin's upper-class district, past respectable mansions, a multitude of crowded and well-furnished taverns and the occasional small grove and garden. Wherever they walked, people were not far, impeccably dressed, rarely alone and almost always enjoying the warm evening.
“Welcome sight”, Urdo broke the silence, as they rode past Eslam's Garden, the largest park within the city, probably the most beautiful of its kind within the Middenrealm. It took a whole legion of gardeners, tending to every blade of grass, to every tree and bush, for the park to keep its impeccable beauty and quite fittingly, in its centre, one could see the Grapeblood Temple, the most prestigious temple of the goddess Rahja within Almada, a round building, ten feet tall and with a gently domed ceiling, constructed entirely out of rose-coloured marble.
“Surprised you like it here, Gisholm”, Edmond growled, as he gazed upon the garden. Even now, at sunset, he could see numerous couples taking a stroll beneath the cherry trees. “Not even nearly enough violence and treachery here” Urdo shot him a crooked grin. “You're mistaken”, he replied in a jovial tone, even talking slightly slower than he usually did. “You never saw it with your mages, but I spent time with the nobility of Almada” He sighed longingly. “Kind smile here, pleasant word there”, he spoke. “But you turn your back, you show weakness, they stab you. Sometimes literally, sometimes figuratively. Don't even hesitate”
“Ah, I get why you admire them”, Edmond replied and Urdo shook his head. “Seeing through their schemes, stimulating for the mind”, he explained. “But don't worry, they would never involve you in a scheme. Not interesting enough” He chuckled at his own joke and Edmond rolled his eyes. Still, he couldn't deny that he was fascinated by this land and its people. Though it belonged to the Middenrealm, it was closer to the Horasian Empire and the Caliphate than it was to Garetia and it showed within the architecture, the fashion and the customs. Where Edmond considered the north to be bare and savage, people actually had a proper culture here. In terms of class and manners, even a low Almadani merchant would beat a Tobrian nobleman.
And then there was the climate. Even now, in Travia's month and so close to the beginning of winter, it was warm in Almada. As indifferent as he was to his birthplace in Meadows, the one thing Edmond outright hated were the cold winters, snow so high that even sturdy carriages were unable to cross it. Here in Almada, it rarely snowed at all, not even on the coldest days of Firun's month.
Their destination was one of the mansions surrounding Eslam's Garden. It was white and three stories tall, not as huge as some of the buildings in the posh neighbourhood of Goldacres, where most of the important families of Almada had a residence. Still, it had a small front yard, a short wall with a gate separating it from the street and quite likely a small garden of its own in the back. According to Sulman, the owner was a rich merchant and a sympathizer of their cause.
“Reo Quendan Gorbas”, Edmond read as he gazed upon the letters engraved over the gate. “This is the place” Korobar narrowed his eyes as he looked at the mansion. Each room seemed brightly illuminated and Edmond even heard music coming from an open window, the soft tunes of a harp, interwoven by a trio of cyclopean flutes. “I thought this was supposed to be a serious meeting”, the necromancer growled. “Not some revelry”
“In Almada, it can be both at the same time”, Edmond told him. “The people here, they know how to truly live. Watch them closely, maybe you can learn a thing or two. There has to be something that meets your taste” Korobar shook his head. “Unlikely”, he replied. “I am more surprised you know how to live, guild mage. Beautiful as this city might be, isn't your academy infamous for bringing forth nothing but bookish prudes?”
Usually, Edmond would snapped something back at the necromancer, but in Punin again did wonders to his mood. As such, he merely gave him a mild smirk, before being the first to approach the mansion. Urdo followed hastily, while Korobar hesitated for a moment, before ultimately doing the same. They had crossed only half of the broad gravel path that led through the neatly trimmed grass of the front yard as the thick wooden door of the mansion got opened for them.
An older man came into view, lanky, with a bony face and a beaked nose. He looked at the group out of thin eyes, silently judging them, before straightening his back and clearing his throats. “Yes, please?”, he asked. “This is a private reception. State your name and business or leave at once” Edmond walked up to the man, before he took the hint of a bow in front of him. “I believe we are invited”, he revealed. “My name is Edmond, I wish to speak to Maestro Gorbas”
The man narrowed his already small eyes, as if he was waiting for something, until Urdo of Gisholm pushed himself past Edmond. “Through will, we gain power”, he spoke, the first sentence of Borbarad's Prayer. The older man sighed. “Through pain, we gain freedom”, he replied with the second sentence, before he took a deep bow in front of Edmond. “You are who you claim to be. Please, Maestro Gorbas and his honoured guests are waiting for you in the greater parlour”
He took a step aside, allowing the trio to enter. From the inside, the house was no less beautiful than from the outside. But where the front was brightly coloured, the interior was mostly kept in dark, damp colours. They entered a hallway with ebon walls and a dark red carpet covering most of the floor. The walls were decorated with solemn oil paintings, depicting a row of older men, each of them with a small chin and a notable pug nose.
“The House of Gorbas has a long, proud ancestry here in Punin”, the man intoned, likely after noticing Edmond's fleeting interest in the portraits. “My master's father has been a merchant and his father and his father before him. Each generation has made new contacts in this world, friendships and prosperous trading partners. Maestro Gorbas hopes that nothing less will come of his cooperation with your organization”
He stopped in front of the last door on the left side of the hallway, knocking once, before opening right afterwards. “Maestro Edmond and companions”, he announced the trio, before taking a step aside, allowing Edmond to see the interior of the parlour. It was a large room, only marginally brighter than the hallway, thanks to a dim fireplace and a widely open door that led into a surprisingly sizeable garden. From beyond that open door, he heard music.
The centre of the room was clearly the massive table, polished clean and with elegant carvings in the style of the Mhaharanyat. It allowed for two dozen people to sit at it at once, though right now, notably less were present. Only four were sitting at the table right now, a far cry from what he had expected.
The first to greet him was, of course, Sulman al'Venish. Over the last five months since Borbarad's return, his friend had firmly taken over the Borbaradian circles to prepare them for their master. A lot had to be done until they were ready. For centuries, the Borbaradian cult had been forced into hiding. The circles existed without a central authority, sometimes even without knowledge of each other and the way they worshipped Borbarad differed drastically from circle to cirle. Some were content with praying to their god in hidden monasteries throughout the mountain ranges of Aventuria. Others were gathering in larger cities, trying to take a more active role in returning Borbarad to this world. Some spread the word by recruiting those strong in spirit, others preferred to eliminate threats to the circles.
In his new position as Master of the Circles, Sulman wore a fine robe in Borbarad's colours, black and red, with the seven-pointed eye, symbol of their order, right on his chest. He was clean-shaven and wore his hair in a long ponytail, a kind smile forming on his calm face. A strange and unpleasant smell surrounded him, as if someone had doused a corpse in perfume. “Edmond, my friend”, he greeted him. “I am glad you made it. I take it your journey to the Capitale has been without issue?”
“It has been a good journey, Sulman”, Edmond confirmed, hesitating for a moment, before he took a bow in front of him. He was happy for him, had wholeheartedly supported the vote to appoint Sulman as Liscom's official successor, but even then, they have served Borbarad for an almost equal time and more than colleagues, they were friends. Bowing to a friend felt strange.
Out of the other three at the table, he recognized two. First, Harun al'Matassa, an older Tulamid who only barely managed to straighten his curly hair and wild beard with loads of oil, clad in fine robes befitting for his high position. After all, je led the Beni al'Kitab, the Fasarian disciples of Borbarad. Furthermore, he was one of the Exalted of Fasar, the ruling council of the ancient, proud city state near the Khom desert. Harun was well-connected and capable of dealing with the double life of leading the faithful right beneath the eyes of their greatest enemy and managing the day-to-day politics of the Exalted council.
The other was the gaunt, balding Asmodeus of Andergast, whose crooked smile Edmond gladly reciprocated. Though not one for lofty titles, the old man was, in fact, royalty, being the bastard brother of Wendolyn Irebold, seventh of his name, King of Andergast. It was hardly a presitigious position and Andergast was hardly an important nation, but Asmodeus had proven his worth in the past. Thanks to his tireless work, the Borbaradian idea had taken deep roots within the forests of Andergast.
“It is good to see you, Edmond”, Asmodeus spoke, while Harun gave him a nod, while slowly moving a hand through his beard. “With so many having refused the call, it is good to see that a faithful core still stands behind our ideas and our master” Edmond narrowed his eyes. “Some refused the call?”, he asked, to which Sulman gave him a nod. “Many”, he confirmed with a sigh. “But more about that later. Edmond, may I introduce you to our generous host?”
He placed a hand on the back of the man to his right. Undoubtedly, this had to be Reo Quendan Gorbas, the merchant who was hosting this meeting. Edmond recognized the small chin and the pug nose from the portraits, although Reo was notably heavier than his ancestors. He was sweating as he rose from his chair and Edmond immediately distrusted the man. His smile was not honest and his eyes continued to look at the mage carefully, perhaps weighing him for his worth. “Ah, Maestro Edmond!”, he spoke. “I am pleased to finally make your acquaintance after hearing so much about you”
“Like what?”, Edmond growled, as he reluctantly grabbed Reo's extended, sweaty hand. He caught Urdo suppressing a grin as he subtly tried to wipe the sweat off his palm the moment Reo let go of it. “Just the best, I assure you”, Reo was quick to say. “Sulman here mentioned you as a prime example for Borbaradian virtues. I heard you have an open mind, a strong dedication to your cause and a talent for the arcane that is unmatched”
“Is that so?”, Edmond replied. “I haven't heard much of you though. What exactly is it that you bring to this table, Maestro Gorbas?” Reo's smile did not grow any smaller, as he sat down again, offering the seat on his left to Edmond, who followed the invitation after a moment if hesitation. “Well, first, this table stands in my house”, he spoke. “It is true that I have no previous involvement with your group, but I'd say this is precisely my strength”
Edmond raised an eyebrow. “In what way is that a strength?”, he asked, genuinely unconvinced how this man would be an asset. Liscom had been cautious with recruiting new members, as a single bad apple would be enough to bring down their entire network. One Middenrealm spy, or worse, one of Atherion's hounds and dozens of good, faithful Borbaradians would die. Despite their triumph in Drakesfield, despite the individual influence of their members, they were not ready for a direct confrontation with their many enemies.
“Ah, I know that some of you are very well-connected”, Reo explained. “I did my research and I know your strengths and the enemies you have to face” A satisfied smile formed on his fleshy face. “And your greatest weakness is that many of you are already connected to the Borbaradians. Sulman is a wanted man in parts of Tulamidiya and the only reason Asmodeus here is tolerated in Andergast is that it's, well, Andergast we're talking about”
Asmodeus' fatherly smile faded, replaced by a brief glare of pure ice. “And I take it Maestro Harun has to be particularly cautious not to get connected to any of you, or else Thomeg Atherion will have a stern word with him”, Reo continued, to which Harun nodded reluctantly. “Atherion has always been a dangerous enemy”, he confirmed. “While I doubt he outright knows of our master's return, he might suspect it, at least. Just before I left for Punin, I had to send him a handful of shipments, containing one of my slaves who spied for him” He narrowed his eyes. “He does that with every member of the Exalted, but lately, he has grown more curious when it comes to me”
“And that is where I chime in”, Reo spoke up. “Spectability Atherion doesn't know me. I doubt he would ever suspect I have anything to do with any of you. I have certain monetary assets and none would be surprised if I earn more of it, or if I meet foreign dignitaries within my mansion, or if I send shipments across all Aventuria” His smile widened. “I can move your wealth, your messages, your goods without anyone growing suspicious. You are concerned about Atherion? Well, I don't have to” He looked at Edmond. “Do you see the value I offer?”
Edmond glanced at Sulman, who gave him a subtle nod, so he sighed and nodded in return. “I see, Maestro Gorbas”, he confirmed. “Besides, I see no reason not to get you involved either” He raised an eyebrow. “I take it your motives have been investigated?”, he asked and looked from Sulman to Asmodeus, who nodded. “I did a thorough search through Maestro Gorbas' mind”, he revealed, unable to fully hide the disgust in his voice. “And questionable as some aspects of his character might be, his motive is honest and pure. He wants to usher in Borbarad's golden age, because he genuinely believes in our success. In that case, he wants to be on the winning side”
“Smart man”, Urdo remarked and Reo shrugged apologetically. “I merely consider you to have the better chances in this coming conflict. Never would I insult you by claiming to be a true believer. You say Borbarad is a god, but there is already so many to pray to. Certainly, I don't need another”, he spoke, but under Edmond's cold glare, he quickly tried to defuse the situation. “What I mean is, I haven't even met that god of yours. Uh... when could I?”
Sulman narrowed his eyes. “We are not in contact with him”, he admitted. “Borbarad revealed himself to us after Drakesfield, but it was solely his essence. Deprived of a vessel, it is hard for him to interact with this world, or even just to traverse through it. Constantly, he has to avoid the call of Alveran, his divine jailers attempting to pull him back across the Nowhere Sea” He looked at Edmond. “This is one of the aspects we wish to discuss today”
“I hoped for a larger meeting”, Edmond admitted as he looked around. “I see the circles of Fasar, Andergast and Rashtul. Where are the others?” Sulman sighed. “I have already given order to the smaller circles. Their presence won't be necessary”, he revealed. “Azaril is on her way with some of the others. She is expected to arrive later in the evening”
Edmond smiled thinly. “Her presence is always welcome”, he spoke. “But there is more, isn't it?” Sulman gave him a reluctant nod. “Some outright refused the call”, he admitted. “They were wiling to pray to Borbarad when he wasn't around, were willing to take his powers and our connections, but now that the moment has come for them to prove their worth, to repay Borbarad for all he gave them, they try to cut all ties to us”
“Traitors”, Harun growled. “We shall hunt them down. Now that the god who gave them so much demands something in return, they are quick to abandon him, to abandon us!” He clenched a fist and slammed it down onto the table. “Sulman, with your permission, allow me to kill those who refused the call!”
Sulman shook his head. “They aren't worth it”, he spoke. “Once Borbarad has shaped the world to his desire, he will deal with the traitors personally. For now, some of them are in positions of extraordinary power and we have neither the time nor the resources to deal with them. More pressing matters await”
Edmond raised an eyebrow. “Any big names among them?”, he asked, to which Sulman nodded. “Irshan Perval, for example”, he stated. “He had the nerve to mock me for my devotion, called me a naïve fanatic for trusting in Borbarad's vision. Alas, he already got all he wanted from our cooperation. The Al'Anfanian empire is more than capable of protecting him” He shrugged. “And Karjunon has fled the Brabacian circle”, he revealed. “Word has it he has found a new home in Mirham, as a guest of Salpikon Savertine”
“They will pay in time”, Harun spoke. “Atherion is a dead man once I am through with him and Savertine... he can bend to our will, or he will break” Asmodeus chuckled. “He has led the black guild for over a decade”, he replied in a dry tone. “I doubt a man who has to deal with ak'Taran on a monthly basis will be afraid of any of us”
As if he had waited for the perfect moment, Reo's servant chose this moment to open the door. “Maestro Menchal and companions”, he spoke in a nasally tone and Edmond froze in surprise. "Nether Hells...", Sulman growled. For a moment, even Reo could only stare as the servant stepped aside, revealing a trio of newcomers behind him. Edmond knew all three and he was not happy to see either of them, quite the contrary. “What are the fucking Uthari doing here?”, he hissed.
“We have come to converse with the inner circle”, the man in the centre said. He was tall, not much shorter than Korobar, but significantly leaner. His stern, well-constructed and clean-shaven face was classically handsome and seemingly ageless, adorned by a pair of pale, grey eyes. As always, Edmond hated the look within them. He wore his silken, silvery-blonde hair long and open, allowing it to fall below his shoulders. As if his face alone didn't portray wealth and status enough, his attire did, as he chose a robe of black silk for the day, cut in the way of a southern nobleman, adorned with an elaborate pattern of silver and dark red at the edge of his sleeves and the collar. The mage's staff he carried with him was almost as tall as him, made of dark wood, the tip made of silver, formed to resemble a serpent's head with tiny rubies serving as its eyes.
“Ak'Taran...”, Sulman growled. “You were not invited” A brief, smug smile flashed over Menchal's face, as he and his companions entered the room. He was flanked by the most unlikely pair of cousins Edmond had ever seen, Saya and Murak di Zeforika. Like Menchal ak'Taran, they were nobility from Mengbilla, but that and their shared last name was about the only similarity between the two of them.
Saya was a lithe and beautiful woman in her mid-thirties, her short, brown locks tied into a prim bun. As always, she was well-dressed, in the colourfully frilled attire of a Horasian noblewoman, even wearing a small, wide-brimmed hat adorned by a green feather. Her cousin Murak was the complete opposite. Stocky and pot-bellied, he had dirty blonde hair, which he wore open and as long as Menchal, yet with none of his leader's natural elegance. He had a puffy, jaded face, a patchy beard and even the light tan of a southern worker, instead of the pale skin his cousin so proudly displayed. His robe likely used to be worthy of his status once, but now it was as dirty and rundown as everything about him. Perhaps the most important difference was within their powers, however. Where Saya's innocent face hid her ruthless, downright rotten nature and devastating powers, Edmond had experienced Murak as a pompous buffoon, not able to live up to his important family name, neither in deeds, nor in power. To compensate for this, he had a temper and a talent for cruelty that, at his worst moments, made even Saya look like a saint in comparison.
Serving under Menchal ak'Taran, they formed the inner circle of the Fraternitas Uthari, the Borbaradian circle in Mengbilla, that infamous port city between the swamps of southern Horasia and the lush jungles of Meridiana. Liscom's warnings, concerning the Uthari, was always present in Edmond's mind. A group of common criminals, that's what they used to be in the past, smugglers and killers, whose sole memorable skill was their ability to dance around the tens of thousands of laws of Mengbilla with uncanny ease, allowing them to pursue their activities in plain sight.
Menchal had always been a power-hungry opportunist and Liscom had always suspected that the man's seeming loyalty to Borbarad was nothing but another plot to gain a slice of the sheer divine power their master commanded over, or at least a good place within his new world. And if that wasn't enough, Edmond considered them to be pompous, smug bastards. Regardless, the Uthari were dangerous, even by the standards of the other cults and though he was not well-liked, none could deny Menchal's influence. He led the powerful alchemist's guild in Mengbilla and through them, he had a seat within the council of the Black Guild, as one of Salpikon Savertine's most influential rivals. Where the Fasarian spectability, Thomeg Atherion, was their greatest threat within the guild, ak'Taran was their greatest asset, but it didn't mean that Edmond had to like the man.
“Why, al'Venish, I thought this meeting is meant for all of us”, Menchal spoke, as he placed his free hand on his chest. “All of us, servants of the master” He narrowed his eyes. “Whom, as I have recently learned, has returned, months ago” He took a seat on the other side of the table, directly opposing Sulman, while Saya and Murak continued to flank him. “In times like these, shouldn't we work together?”, he asked. “Can any here afford the expertise me and my Uthari bring to the table?”
Sulman narrowed his eyes and Edmond noticed that beneath the table, his fists were clenched. And yet, he managed to reply to Menchal's acidic smile with one of his own. “Who told you about this meeting, ak'Taran?”, he asked in a low tone, immediately glancing at Urdo of Gisholm. For a second, the other man seemed downright insulted. “Why me?”, he hissed. "Didn't tell him"
Before Menchal could reply, Harun al'Matassa spoke up. “I did”, he admitted calmly and merely shrugged at Sulman's glare. “It is as Menchal said, we can benefit from his position and his assets. I know you two have a history, but you cannot afford to split the circles into those that follow you and those that rather follow the Uthari, not when unity is more important than ever!” He narrowed his eyes. “Liscom would have understood this”
“As do you, good Harun”, Menchal said, even taking a slight bow in his direction. “At least one among you has the foresight to work with the Uthari” Harun replied in kind. “I greet you, Menchal ak'Taran, from one Exalted to another!”, he proclaimed. Sulman sighed. “So be it”, he agreed, though he pressed the words through his teeth. “The Fraternitas Uthari is welcome among us” Menchal's thin smile widened, as the di Zeforika cousins behind him exchanged a brief, smug glance. Edmond used this opportunity to shoot both of them a glare. “Excellent”, Menchal spoke, before he took a bow in front of Reo Quendan Gorbas. “Don Gorbas, allow me to thank you for receiving us here. I know you weren't expecting us, but this meeting will be to our mutual benefit”
Reo gulped. “Well, if...”, he stuttered, briefly glancing at Sulman, who gave him a nod. “If that is the case, Maestro Menchal... I mean, please, welcome in my house” He spread his arms, his smile a bit hesitant, as Menchal had already sat down without asking. Ak'Taran carefully looked at each of those present, his gaze lingering slightly longer on Edmond, until he raised a mocking eyebrow. “Shall we begin then?”, he asked.
Sulman sighed. “Actually, we are still waiting for Azaril and Braken”, he revealed. “With them, I hope to receive news from the western Middenrealm” Menchal slightly raised an eyebrow. “The North Marches”, he presumed. “Are they keeping an eye on the schism that has torn the Cult of Praios?” Sulman gave him a nod. “Braken is doing that, yes”, he confirmed. “And on the problems within the Church of Rondra. In his last letter, he hinted at internal conflicts among the Rondrians”
“Two of our most powerful foes, torn by internal conflict”, Menchal spoke in a calm tone. “It truly seems like the return of our master came at an excellent time” He narrowed his eyes. “Of course, that brings me to a certain matter I would like to discuss...”, he whispered. “A matter which, I believe, we can discuss in this smaller group already”
“And what matter would...”, Sulman began, before Murak di Zeforika cut him off. “We want to know why you kept us in the dark!”, he spat. “And no excuses. That lenient fool Liscom isn't around to protect you this time!” Edmond nearly jumped up as he heard this, but Sulman held him back by placing a hand on his shoulder. In return, Menchal gave Murak a mild glance and the portly mage looked to the side, avoiding to look at either of them.
“His words”, Menchal clarified, a brief smirk flashing over his face. “Not mine” Urdo of Gisholm grinned at him. “You would use more flattery?”, he asked and Menchal had to visibly suppress a chuckle. “Ah, dear Urdo, your humour has been missed in Mengbilla”, he replied. “I should make it clear, I have nothing but respect for the late Liscom Ghosipar. Though we didn't always see eye to eye, I know he thought as highly of me as I did of him”
Edmond clenched his teeth. He knew, Liscom had never spoken well of Menchal ak'Taran. Other elements within their order thought better of the man, but Liscom had been an idealist. He had principles and boundaries, something Menchal sorely lacked. And worst of it all, Menchal knew how little Liscom had thought of him. Yet another insult to the memory of his mentor...
“Where do you plan on taking this, ak'Taran?”, Sulman spoke in a carefully controlled voice. Edmond knew his friend well, however, and he noticed the slight shiver within it. Menchal sighed, louder than necessary. “Ah, you can imagine how surprised I was when Harun informed me of what happened. Liscom, dear, wise Liscom, returned from the dead, not just recently, but years ago. He has even spent some time in Selem, only a short hop away from Mengbilla. And yet he never sought my help, even when preparing to free our master from his prison” Again, the briefest hint of a smirk. “At the time, it seemed to me he didn't want to involve the Uthari, despite all we have to offer...”, he spoke and his tone grew marginally colder. “It could be taken as an insult”
“Liscom meant no offence”, Sulman claimed, but when it came to Menchal ak'Taran, Edmond wasn't so sure. “He kept most in the dark, even among his most faithful. At the time, he saw it as necessary” He glanced at Edmond, who cleared his throat, reluctantly. “It is true”, he spoke. “All these years, I though him dead. And yet...” He paused, as he felt a lump in his throat. Speaking of this, it still didn't come easy for him.
“And yet he only revealed himself to me on the last day of his prolonged life”, he continued after taking a deep breath. “And I was closer to him than any of you. He was more a father to me than my sire and yet he did not tell me. This should prove that he meant no insult, to any of you” Briefly, he clenched his fists in anger. “So don't try to twist his deeds until you find one. He deserves better than that!”
Menchal waited for a moment, carefully mustering Edmond as if he was thinking on what to reply. “I haven't given you permission to speak, Meadows, have I?”, he replied in a cold tone, before he glanced at Sulman. “I want to hear it from you”, he spoke. “Not from a lowborn upstart who is only here because old Liscom had a bout of misplaced pity for a goat herder” That was too much for Edmond, who jumped up. This time, Sulman didn't hold him back. “You take that back”, he barked. “You will not desecrate his memory, you snake!”
The di Zeforika cousins seemed amused by his outburst and only Saya had the decency to hide her smirk with the back of her hand. Menchal ak'Taran, however, seemed thoroughly unimpressed, his expression downright stoic. “Is that how you see me, Meadows?”, he asked. “A snake?” He narrowed his eyes. “How... disappointing. Though you come from a place without any culture, you have studied here, in Punin. I thought they would have beaten some manners into you”
“To be fair, you insulted him first”, Sulman spoke up in a calming tone. Menchal shook his head. “You are of high birth, Sulman”, he replied. “You should know that men like us cannot insult those below us” He crossed his arms. “I have limits, Sulman”, he growled. “There are only so many insults I can take” Sulman took a sharp breath. “To quote you”, he pressed through his teeth. “His words. Not mine”
“And yet, is Edmond not your right hand man?”, Menchal asked. “I always considered him Liscom's failed pet project, but as his presence here hints at, it seems you disagree” Sulman notably tensed up. “He is my right hand man and most trusted friend”, he explained after a moment of hesitation and Edmond gave him a small smile. “And nothing will change about this. So what do you want then, Menchal?”
Menchal folded his hands and his thin smile reappeared on his otherwise cold face. “My demand is but a simple one”, he spoke. “I was insulted and I want an apology” Edmond shot him a vicious glare. “Well, you can take that apology and stick it right...!”, he began, before Sulman's voice cut him off. “Do it!”, his friend interrupted him sharply, but the words didn't reach Edmond's ears. Instead, they formed within his head.
“Wha...”, he stuttered, as he looked at Sulman. The other mage turned to him and though he spoke, he did not open his mouth. Of course, Edmond knew how telepathy worked, but that Sulman resorted to it in this moment meant that the situation was more dire than Edmond suspected. “Now, do not argue with me”, Sulman continued in his mind. “Just apologize. I know he is an arse, but I believe this is what he wants. He wants to take your insult, blow it out of proportion and break off our alliance. I can... I can simply feel it. He wants to have a reason to do it and then he is free to pursue his own plans, to compete with me for our master's favour” He narrowed his eyes. “I cannot have such a power struggle right now. We cannot have it if we want to support the master. We need the Uthari”
Edmond sighed and Sulman opened his mouth. “Pride in yourself and your deeds is a great virtue”, he spoke, repeating Borbarad's teachings for all to hear. “But misplaced pride is a vile thing that needs to be recognized and snuffed out” He gave him a small smile. “I believe you should apologize, Edmond”, he said and the words that followed formed entirely in Edmond's head again. “Please, friend, do it for the cause”
[Apologize to ak'Taran] [Refuse to apologize]