Larn

Tir Ral-Nor

'Dar' Eherdir O' Lome

Fae O' Elum

Fifth Servant of the Circle

Witch-hunt

Part I

-Moon Daughter-

'A captain fetched a gift bound in a missive, to this here distant water

From Sibara's golden shores and Shark Isles' rocky pillars of the Haze Sea

Afore Sintoriela's spawns returned to Raxe-Tull to fight the dead Banshee…'

*Moon Daughter

- Letters from Sibara

Venalon O' Mormiel

(Born about 600 years before the First Era– Perished from old age in 3006 IC, a hundred and ninety years before the Fall.)

-

*Famed 1st Era bard and epic poet Venalon, son of the also great musician Mormiel the 'Rhyme-mancer', was born sometime before the start of the First Era (around six centuries prior) and was in his second millennia in 1769 IC when Aelrindel 'O Edlenn was born, about fourteen years before the start of the Aken-Zilan hostilities (either 1793, or 1796). Although not accurate in his dates and with some touch of poetic license, Venalon captured the awfulness of the distant campaign and the personal losses to all people, both the commonest of the Empire's Citizens and also the more famous of its heroes. This chapter of the long epic song was conflating a sad event that happened near the end of the war (the gruesome demise of Sorceress & Healer Rinariel O' Edlenn 1370 -2004?) and the joyful birth of Edlenn's second daughter before the conflict's beginning, more than two hundred years earlier. It was High Priestess' Edlenn O' Sintoriela (one of the epic song's heroines) highest and lowest points of the saga.

Larn pursed his mouth into a thin line, the chair creaking to his left when Nulanos' partner pulled it to sit down. The soft buzz of the large 'tavern', dabbling as the local smugglers headquarters, weaning somewhat and the Mori-Zilan Elderblood –Nulanos was older than dirt far as Larn was concerned- assumed a relaxed posture, placing a hand on the female thief's thigh.

"There's no need for that," Nulanos said and the sorceress stopped sniffing at the 'monarch's wine' and chuckled.

"Ralnor says it all the time," she told Nulanos, and Larn cast a glare on her to keep her mouth shut.

"It's the truth," Nulanos continued a little amused, either too-confident in his skills or underestimating Larn's capacity for violence. "Even if you best the two of us, there are twenty more nasty guys and girls in this venue," the thief continued. "You could of course manage that also, but then you'll be stuck in Goras with the underworld pissed off and the next Imperial patrol is due to arrive in three hours."

"What do you want?" Larn rustled and Nulanos gestured for him to sit on the last free chair of their table. "I'll stand."

"It'll be awkward and attract too-much attention. Take a seat lad."

Larn grimaced. Then he dragged the chair away from the table and sat at the edge of it, facing the dark-skinned couple. The sound of Aelrindel loudly gulping down wine from her goblet, very amusing.

Also incredibly annoying.

"I just want to learn the other side of a well-known story," Nulanos continued in a casual manner. Larn had come to not particularly like these well-spoken, fancy-dressed, handsome dudes. Nulanos, the prince of thieves, was a larger than life character, the young Larn had used to look up to. Then he grew up and started killing folk for a living. "Everything happens for a reason, it can be comical or tragic. I must confess that I succumb to the fascination of fully knowing about things I happened to live through and once thought I was fully aware. Don't you?"

Larn crooked his mouth, unwilling to say anything.

"What story?" Aelrindel asked, refilling her goblet.

Larn grunted, but she gave him a glance of assurance as if everything was under control.

"I heard you were killed," Larn finally said, not trusting the witch's intuition.

"Drown, burned. Both actually," Nulanos replied and poured some wine in his partner's goblet, before filling his. "I made it out with the help of a gnome."

"Luck saved you from Turlas?" Larn queried, remembering some of the stories circulating back then.

"Not a metaphor. I was literally saved by a real gnome," Nulanos argued with a confident smile.

"Um," Larn grunted not convinced he was telling the truth.

Nulanos shared a brief exchange with his partner. "Valydra doesn't trust you," he finally told the scowled assassin. "But I'm better at judging characters."

"Not if they have a pretty face," Valydra retorted, but if there was tension there she kept it well hidden. "Or interesting."

"A face speaks of the soul it hides," Nulanos argued. "Whether it's pretty, ugly or interesting, it makes little difference."

Larn smacked his lips, feeling a numbness spreading from being too-tensed up and pushed back on the chair, catching out of the corner of his eye the sorceress nodding at the thief's words. Her reaction made Larn got all wound up again.

"It was Ovinet by the way," Nulanos added and Larn hissed, opening and closing his fist under the table. "I saw her flying over when I got to the surface."

"The Queen sunk a transport ship carrying prisoners?" Larn asked sarcastically. "Just to kill you? Why not doing it on land? Or have you executed?"

"Dudrina had been murdered that summer," Nulanos elucidated. "Coal Isle was on the verge of a full revolt against her soldiers. It was easier to paint it an accident and keep Valydra's people cooperative. The Guild run the ports back then. You knew that Tir Lar-Nor," Nulanos added and lifted the goblet with two fingers to taste the wine. "Was it you?" The thief asked just before he did.

Do this, and you'll be a part of the Circle again. Nym believes in you, the vile Gish assassin had offered.

"He'd another mission," Aelrindel said soberly.

"Eh," Larn grunted and glared at the sorceress.

Stop giving up details!

"Interesting," Nulanos said. "I know you didn't murder her mother," you son of a bitch, trying to manipulate her, Larn thought frustrated with a worried side-glance at the sorceress.

"You are a liar Toloth," Aelrindel said sweetly using his underworld moniker 'eight' instead of his name, and it caught both Valydra and Nulanos unawares. "You lied to me inside Elas Study. Does she know?"

"I didn't," Nulanos replied, recovering fast. "I just want to find out what really happened. It's impossible to know everything witch."

Hah. The second part, if stripped down to the bare bones, was a half admission.

"Toloth exchanged a kiss for a promise. He promised not to steal Sigel O' Nyel, after I had foolishly revealed where it was," the sorceress said cutely, openly flirting with him and Larn stood back unsure about her strategy. "Yet here I see it again, just as that other day in your new partner's pretty neck."

Was there even a strategy here?

Valydra narrowed her sole eye at the witch's words.

Nulanos raised an index finger and moved it right and left across the masqueraded witch's face. "Tsk-tsk, your sugary canards are laced with poison. There was no kiss, still… there was a promise given. I'm not a liar Moon Daughter, but I'm a thief by trade. If it's any consolation, I didn't steal the circlet, although I did place a dead dog inside Elas office as a joke. The old fool worked like a dog. In retrospect it was a lousy jest."

"He does lie a lot, but he serves it well," Valydra blurted out with a grimace. "I wouldn't be surprised if you two had a thing going. Stray cats are far more loyal than Neil and witches love their wayward cats."

Damn, she makes a whole more sense than one would have expected! Larn thought.

Nulanos eyed Aelrindel disapprovingly for the trouble she'd just dropped to his feet.

You haven't seen nothing yet Neil.

"I haven't heard a reason yet," Larn told the Thieves Guild Leader. "Why would the Queen have you killed?"

"I knew she had also ordered Nym to take out Edlenn," Nulanos replied.

"She knows that," Ralnor warned and saw the witch standing away from the table out of the corner of his eye.

"Valydra knows who the assassins were," Nulanos insisted.

"We do as well. Few of them are still breathing," Larn retorted. "What are you looking for Nulanos?"

"The real story behind written history's fables."

"What does it matter now?" Aelrindel asked. "What's done is done."

"Enlighten me sorceress," Nulanos told her in a deep voice and the sorcerer's illusion spell cracked before their eyes. "Sweet goddess gracing the heavens," the thief hummed, sounding impressed, whilst staring in the flushed witch's silvery pools.

"Who told her? The magic circlet?" Larn asked to break the moment.

"Lord Calamer himself," Nulanos replied.

Bullshit.

"The Lord Justice divulged this to a thief?" Larn probed.

"I got it out of him," Valydra intervened with a warning glare at the airing with a hand the opening of her sweaty bust witch. "He didn't make it."

Larn stood back a little impressed with this side of the comely thief. He stared at the watching their exchange Nulanos next. "Speak your piece."

"Baltoris was cruel but she'd a reason for it, after what happened to her parents," Nulanos started immediately in a well-polished accent, his voice pleasant to the ear. "Edlenn had motive to move against Ninthalor and Braeniriel. Sigel O' Nyel's answer to who done it didn't help the Queen. Two killers offed the first King of Wetull. One that died but is still around. One that lives but is already dead. You heard this next part before Moira."

Valydra and Aelrindel both whispered in unison. "In metal it whispers an ever-weaving thread. If left its influence shall spread and come for his daughter's head."

Ugh? Larn thought.

"Metal is not entirely accurate a translation to Common Imperial, too generic," the witch told Nulanos. "If it used the word 'Palt' for example, then it is another word for 'steel leaf' in Cyran jargon. It could also mean an ornamented blade or a cutting tool."

"Even so, Baltoris believed Ninthalor was about to break the treaties Edlenn had worked to sign with the Aken. The King must have told his daughter the High Priestess might have been compromised."

"Edlenn hated the Aken. She proposed an alliance to take down the Onyx Wyvern. Gimoss was the greater danger," Larn grunted. "Ending the war afterwards isn't irrational at all."

"The King knew they were winning. The Isles were blockaded, Raxe-Tull in Imperial hands. The Aken of the Plague Isles needed peace for this or any other reason. It could have been a collapse in support back in Galith after over two centuries of conflict. Any reason. There was no sense in Edlenn backing away and abandoning control to the Bonemancers, lest she was blackmailed."

"With what?" Larn asked soberly.

"Rinariel," Nulanos replied. "She was lost during that time and never retrieved."

"It is common knowledge, the Imperial mandate of the times was to destroy all corpses to avoid the chance they'd fall in Aken hands. The army was austere in these matters. Not a single corpse came back Nulanos," Larn grunted angrily. The witch had fallen quiet after the thief leader's words.

"I'm not trying to open up old wounds," Nulanos assured him. "Just speak more openly about the matter. This is not a defense of the old Queen, but she did have a reason to suspect Edlenn's involvement and trust her father's judgment over any other theory."

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Aelrindel took a deep breath as the Elderblood continued. "If the Aken found Rinariel's body before Edlenn, then the High Priestess would have done anything to get it back."

"Rin was disembowel and burned by Gimoss," Aelrindel was heard saying. "They couldn't find her afterwards, but all bodies were crushed in a pit and then turned to ash."

"She told you that?" Nulanos queried. "A cruel thing to do."

"I found out from Lord Sulynor," Aelrindel replied frostily.

"Did your mother tell you if Rinariel was thrown in the pit?" Nulanos asked calmly. "Records showed she returned with the fleet and yet the First Era's most famous epic recount of the events by Venalon O' Mormiel, who had been there, tells of a different a story. Such an egregious mistake. Where did Edlenn go shortly before or shortly after the end of the war and before the fleet departed to return to Elauthin? You were already born sorceress. Just before the war started. Everyone knew that."

"Speak clearly Nulanos," Larn grunted.

"A mother would never toss her daughter in a burning pit. If her remains were returned in the deal, then the High Priestess had Rinariel buried under an old tree somewhere close. A nearby island perhaps," Nulanos replied and paused upon hearing Aelrindel's heavy-breathing. "I've met your sister briefly. She deserved peace and not eternal damnation in the Desert of Souls. We are Zilan, our body is a vessel and must be returned to nature."

"Say, it is true…" Larn started, but the witch interrupted him.

"The Aken could have used Rin against my mother," she said. "They threatened to do the same to me. Grogoceq made it sound as if it was an idea they had debated on for a while."

"When was that?" Larn grunted.

"After Rida," Aelrindel replied. "When Gimoss returned."

Nulanos let out a whistle across from them sounding fascinated. Even the more stoic Valydra appeared to come out of her gloomy stance. "Another Onyx wyvern is around?" The Thief leader asked.

"Not a wyvern anymore. A Lich," the witch replied. "More dangerous than death still."

"An intriguing detail indeed," Nulanos agreed. "How did Gimoss manage to pull that off, enigmatic sorceress?"

"Used a piece of him laced with magic to keep tethered to this realm is my guess," the witch replied with a satisfied smile. "Made a phylactery to preserve his consciousness and when the opportunity to cross over arose, he used… the dagger as a bridge to take over a dead body."

"It makes the talk we had with… our common friend and his reactions, make a bit more sense now," Nulanos said and Larn narrowed his eyes, as he wasn't privy in their conversation.

"What did you talk about with him?" He asked Nulanos.

"If Edlenn was innocent and Nym didn't do it, someone else was responsible. We came to the conclusion over drinks and meaningful sharing, to look elsewhere for the culprit," Nulanos was ready to say more, but Aelrindel stopped him.

"We? Why does he care?"

"The King has a daughter and this part of the divination spooked him. You missed this part in your… inebriated condition, but I caught his worry. Also, you do realize that if Ninthalor had lived, then your mother could have still been here?" Nulanos offered frankly. "How many other calamities this unsolved murder caused, I wonder?"

"A Fiend can't be the answer," Aelrindel objected. "It's too random and it doesn't make sense. Not the Nigurug. Glenavon is not the one you should discuss this matter with. He's a proven liar."

I could have told you that… wait, I did. Eh. Then again, plenty of them liars around these days, Larn thought sourly keeping his face blank.

What was this malarkey about a Nigurug?

"Hardir took an interest on the matter and had some great insights to offer himself. A shrewd mind can be selfish at times and lewdly bucolic in its wants. A liar even. All the previous truths packaged in the same loot chest. You'll never know beforehand whether everything is valuable inside, or not, but some things will be… for sure," Nulanos insisted and then smacked his lips seeing the witch's hardening expression. "You two seemed to have so much fun together… I guess, Nesande's Garden isn't a vacation spot to cool things down? This is serious."

"That's enough talking," Larn told him. "We need to move on."

"Talking with Hardir is the better option," Nulanos argued and Larn got up with a grunt. "He'll listen."

"You don't know him like we do," the sorceress said and stood up following Larn's lead.

What's to know? If you throw a rock inside a port's tavern, you'll hit ten like him!

"Obviously I don't," Nulanos teased her. "Since you've explored his psyche though, then if you but take a step back, you'll realize he's not interested in hurting you. This isn't Baltoris harboring a deep-rooted hatred for your lineage. Hardir went out of his way to please you."

"Went out of his way to please Moira. He doesn't like Zilan witches," Aelrindel argued.

Why in Oras Hells are we even debating this? Larn thought irate.

Fuck him.

"Such an oxymoron for an Aniculo Rokae seating the throne of Wetull, no? But isn't Moira one and the same? Rhu the other side of the same coin?" Nulanos insisted. "I've never seen a more unbigoted ruler, relaxed-enough to mingle with the lower castes, any castes, than him. If he despises witches for some reason and this is a real witch-hunt, then going to the Garden will offer little protection."

"We have our reasons," Aelrindel murmured.

"He probably does too. Perhaps learning of his reason, would be enough to resolve this? Your visage was always your greatest weapon, but Hardir favored Moira without ever laying his eyes on the real thing," Nulanos persisted.

"Uhm. Why do you care though?" The sorceress asked raising a content eyebrow, whilst Larn shifted the weight from one foot to the other nervously, eyes scanning the dimly-lit tavern and its patrons that now watched them carefully. Watching her. The vibrant witch, in her radiating real form, had drawn a lot of attention.

"Garth is surrounded by a cadre of savvy Goras and Elauthin officials. Religious presbyters and military officers. Those that endured or thrived during Baltoris' purges are a ruthless bunch of survivors, both politically and figuratively. Nym is from Nureria, but she's an outlier and that island was always an extension of Elauthin's machinations. The old Isles of Cazan need you, not to be left behind to rot on their own," Nulanos explained with a glance at the frowned Valydra. "You can reach him in a personal level like no one else can and provide leverage. Help your mother's people. Help him and help all those without access like she would. Those the busy or differently advised Monarch might overlook. Those he might not care, or know about. I'm inclined to try and do what I hated all my life, act not for me or the guild, but something bigger, as this fortuitous meeting wasn't setup by coincidence, or a blind stroke of luck."

"There are no more isles," the witch stated defensively in a whisper and Nulanos stood up as well after returning the cork on the bottle. He offered the expensive wine to her with a confident smile, allowing some time to pass afore replying and his tactics affected the nervous Aelrindel. "You returned?" She asked him.

"I never left," Valydra replied cutting in and Nulanos nodded in agreement to his partner's words.

"You won't even have to force his hand," the thief leader added. "Ask him sorceress and he won't be able to deny you anything. No one ever did."

Are you serious? Larn thought with a grimace of disdain at this blatant attempt at manipulation, but it was obvious Nulanos' words had greatly affected Aelrindel.

In retrospect, there were as many truths to this somewhat serpentine statement made by the Elderblood, as there were falsehoods.

Glen

Six weeks later

4th of Metelaire Asta 3401 IC

(Imperial for 'Eighth Moon/Month, jargon 'end of summer')

Lorian, 4th Octavus (2nd Bacchanalia) 195 NC

Issir, the 3rd Month of Summer, or Eight Month of the year 195

Main Hall

Morn Taras

Goras Peninsula

"Three distinct yet interconnected hulls," Master Rybel clarified, noticing Glen's befuddled –and a tad furious– expression. He traced his finger over the strange black and white illustration –filled with dotted lines, shapes and numbers– to help the Monarch understand better.

Let's get this out of the way. It plaguing didn't. Glen had lost Rybel the moment the drawing had come out and the inflexible naval engineer started talking.

"Two of them fully build, the middle hull just the husk where we shall secure the central open air portion of the warship. A mighty catamaran in appearance… but in reality a weapons platform capable to block access to the Reefs by itself."

Uhm.

"There is some push back from certain circles since yesterday. They suggest that we could build five galleasses instead, for the same amount of coin. Or twelve brigs," Glen offered, taking again note of Laius Cinna's traumatized expression at the Master of Ships proposal and remembering the Treasurer's passionate objections. "The leadership of SETC has asked for more ships as well, in the same contract, if possible."

"Let the Bank and Master Luvon sort it out on their own, they are industrious like that," Rybel countered and continued his diatribe. "Now, with a broadside of eighteen Scorpios on each side, eight catapults and two trebuchets on the middle platform -facing forward, plus the eight additional catapults from the four towers, and the support of the naval force onboard—"

"We don't have five hundred Marines to spare," Glen objected again.

"Flardryn will have the numbers fixed by the time the Monarch's Fabled Glory is finished," Rybel argued without losing a beat.

Glen stood back with a light purse of his mouth. "The Monarch's you say," he started rapping his fingers on the conference table. It made a certain sense given his monetary contributions of course, but it did feel a little patronizing. Glory was just too much sauce poured in the pot. Mayhap tale was more down to earth?

"My liege," Cinna intervened, interrupting his pondering. "Eight hundred additional crew on top of the soldiers is a gargantuan number. Not to mention naval crews get paid twice as much as those working on land and we can't use the prisoners for free. They are rebuilding Mussel's port."

Cinna, this is go big, to then go even bigger.

The Zilan way.

You'll get it at some point.

"They don't have to be Zilan. We don't have enough citizens for the demand," Glen said and Rybel shrugged his shoulders, the other officials present to the Council meeting keeping their silence.

"You'll use slaves?" Cinna bristled. "Your grace?"

I briefly thought about it, but you are right.

"Don't we have refugees arriving all the time? Put them to work afore they steal everything not nailed down. For crying out loud, crime is through the roof gods damn it!" Glen blasted him getting all worked up by his own words. "What is this shite? We are honest folk here, trying to make a blasted living!"

"I stand corrected your grace," Cinna retracted his statement with a deep bow of his head, after everyone present waited for the heavy-breathing, red-faced Glen to calm down.

"SETC must be given the opportunity or access to another harbor's facilities," Doris Alden suggested, clad in his fancy Zilan-type red and gold, Peninsula-silk redingote with his bronzed face a shade of red and very sweaty from the summer's heat. Along with the heavy humidity they had penetrated the thick walls of Morn Taras even.

"Can't you skim a thing here, something over there, use less or inexpensive materials to finish it?" Glen asked Rybel who blinked in horror at the proposal and replied steadfastly, the moment he got his tongue back.

"Absolutely not!"

Why, you rude mulish fuck!

"Calm down man. You are a nervous wreck, this can't be healthy."

"I'm better now Hardir," Rybel assured him with visible disdain.

Ruling over Zilan was far from easy.

"Alright, let me think about it," Glen decided with a patient sigh and then eyed the Morn Taras' Castellan Rimeros. "Are we just about finished for today?"

"This was the first subject of the meeting, sire," Rimeros reminded him politely. "We just started."

Good grief!

"Damn, I can barely keep my eyes open. This was a fucking ordeal and a half," Glen griped with a half yawn. "Just remembered that I need to play a bit with my daughter afterwards. She ambushed me in my sleep and I sort of promised her. Eh. Fine, let's run through the rest. What's next?"

"The Issirs of Lord Anker won at Crimson Forest," Rimeros informed him in a sober tone –as if that should be of any import to Glen- and then stood up to walk to a nearby smaller table. The Zilan returned with a case packed with scrolls he placed next to the Monarch and started digging inside irksomely. Several scrolls were plucked out of the pile one after the other, while the frowned Glen watched him in irritated silence.

"Ah," Rimeros finally said. "Also a classified report from Chinos River via Scaldingport. It came with Queen Elsanne's letters."

"Where the fuck is that?"

"The river bordering Issir's Eagle, your grace?" Doris offered a little surprised and Glen eyed him warningly from across the table.

"Twas a trick query Doris to lighten up the mood, given the tragedy that befell our ally."

Glen had made that up on the spot because he was that good.

Ayup.

"Undeniably sire. It is clear now. I just missed the gist of it," Doris replied humbly.

"Yer forgiven friend," Glen assured him.

"I must remind the Monarch, Sir Gust is still breathing and the Issir Queen asked for our assistance in order to save him," Rimeros intervened.

"Dispatch Soletha," Glen snapped. "I gave the order days ago Rimeros! God damn it, the man could turn into a vegetable by the time she arrives!"

"You did order it, great Garth," Rimeros replied soothingly. "But Lady Soletha hasn't appeared anywhere for weeks. Folen's agents searched her quarters, but she has left Sinya Goras."

"Soren?"

"He went with her, I presume."

Hah, a romantic trip? Soren you big dog! Glen thought with a grin.

"Alright, send someone else to assist Elsanne," Glen offered next. "That Mylael girl, she was a fine… healer, was she not?"

"She is," Doris agreed before he could control himself and Glen eyed the former Duke again. "A true artist of the trade," the embarrassed Lorian noble added.

"Mylael was at Abarat," Rimeros told him. "Looking to replenish her medical supplies from the local market. SETC can use one of the healers aboard the ships anchored in Scaldingport, with your permission."

"They have it," Glen grunted. "How did Folen knew where Mylael was?" He asked and noticed that Aenymriel had entered the hall at some point. She could have been there for a while, draped in shadows and only moved just now, the Monarch thought with a scowl and glared at the keeping her distance Elderborn.

"The Master of Birds keeps a copy of all incoming and outgoing communications per your late wife's orders," Rimeros replied, seemingly pleased with the practice and Glen nodded, watching the light-footed Nym approach their table indifferently.

But for the cunning little smirk on her boyish mouth.

Crazy bitch.

"A letter was found addressed to Lady Soletha. Very peculiar in its meaning," Rimeros continued rather disinterested, his eyes on the reports still left to be discussed. The Zilan's memory of events and all matters nigh impressive. "Alphirim Lothe blooms again in the Orchard, it read."

Where have I heard of this before? Glen thought.

"Goodness me, anyone knows what that is?" Doris asked sounding perturbed and the alert Glen watched as Nym's eyes opened wide in surprise, despite her attempt to hide it.

Ah, yes.

'The hell did you put in there? It tastes foul! Moldy, like a puddle of pig's piss a cat farted on!' A much younger Glen had asked the 'late' Flix and the old Gish let out a naughty chuckle seeing the young man's acrid expression.

'Live long enough and you'll learn many useful trades,' the mirthful Flix had replied after a long moment. 'Salves of vigor and potions of healing, all have their little secrets, good healers wish to keep for themselves -ever mysterious, but as it happens to most secrets, time flushes them out alike turds. He-he.'

'What was in the darn potion Gish?' Glen queried dryly, having had enough of his bullshit and fearing the worst.

'Just a flower. Very rare, it only blooms deep under the earth,' the Gish elucidated. 'Or in shaded fertile ground, a witch's magic has touched.'

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