Neese (http://www.spiritsoftheearth.net/smf/index.php?topic=25417.msg372580#msg372580)
Well... Neese hadn't been to Serendipity in an age, and he found them still overly stiff and restrained. However what they lacked in passions and well... anything that might be considered 'interesting' they made up for in aesthetic appeal. Even the people themselves tended to be, by and large, attractive, and their use of overly primitive magics made for common craft goods that were beautiful enough to rival master artisans from other areas, and the masters here were truly impressive.
Most places, Neese didn't show his true face to mortals on a first encounter, but long ago, far back, and very diluted, in the blood of these people lye the blood of his own people. Fae blood, and fairy things were not unknown to them. Though that they were poorly understood by them was a gorse understatement. Besides, he like the looks cast at him - as he moved threw their streets and halls, in their eyes indecently.
Neese stood tall, at six foot ten, taller than everyone he passes and his angular, lanky, muscled body moved with unnatural grace. His skin shades of grey-green and odd protrusions coming off of his major joints that looked like twigs or leaves, and a face masked by flesh that took on nearly the look of leaves. He was dressed in not but a loin cloth and he liked the gasps from the women as they drew the sleeves of their flowing gowns up toward their mouths.
He paused, and stepped up to a polished brass bowl that some Vendor was peddling, to admire his reflection. Then he stepped threw it, and out the other side into the Wyrdwood, stepping out of a tall mirror that had been hanging on a wall in some hall within the castle.
Neese had a particular target in mind, one who was unknowingly already bound to him, but he wouldn't mind playing with a few other people along the way. He smiled, glancing down the hall to see if anyone had been about to notice his entrance.
Rianharr Thalance (http://www.spiritsoftheearth.net/smf/index.php?topic=24951.0)
Ria craned his neck, trying to peer over the crowd. "What's this all about?"
Vesyll folded her arms, waiting for him to realize the irony in asking a gnome when his grown self was not enough to see over their heads. She quickly gave up and just provided an answer. "Well, apparently there's a fae here. A real fae, with twigs and bark."
Ria pouted. "I bet you homework for Professor Zinc's class that it's just the twins acting up. Or Aahva in a stupid disguise."
"Deal" she responded immediately. "Usually I'd feel bad about taking advantage of you, but I can't pass up on that. But that's a real fae. What kind of Serenian are you not to know?"
"That's racist!" Ria groaned. "And I haven't even seen him- is it a him?"
"Beats me. Ask the fae" Vesyll shrugged.
Maybe he should. If that was a real fae, then he would have to do extra homework, but he should just take advantage of it and see what could he get out of this fae visit.
"Move aside! Out of the way, a fashion-superior being coming through!" he shouted, pushing around with his elbows. He was forced to use his boots as well - the fae was quite popular.
He got close enough to see him - him? Did fae even have genders? He left that question for the scholars to answer as he examined him with his practiced gaze. The fae looked like some kind of a tree spirit, with bark for skin and movements that language was not prepared to describe. Was he naked? Or was it some kind of a fae outfit? Now that was a question he wanted answered.
"Greetings, fae gentleperson!" he called, trying to shout over a professor who was offering souls of his apprentices to their guests. "That's an impressive costume you're wearing!" Not really, but perhaps it was amazing by fae standards, so he kept his mind open. "Is it the recent fae fashion?"
"And you really hit him with your slingshot? But he's so fast!"
Aahva Chatterjee walked down a hidden passageway, a spring in his step. He was sporting a very large, fancy wizard hat- something he'd stolen from another student. Beatrix Evans followed closely behind him, a look of awe on her face. The two had discovered the secret corridor earlier in the month, and it had quickly become their go-to means of traversing the school unnoticed.
"You know I did!" the boy bragged, puffing out his chest. "Pluto can't dodge for shit! That retard fell right off his broom, like this!" Turning to look at his friend, Aahva made an exaggerated expression of shock. Breaking into a smug grin, he stopped walking and pressed on a brick in the wall, causing an door to the adjacent hallway to materialize. "It was so funny, you should have seen it!"
Beatrix laughed- a trill, annoying sound. "So that's when you took it then?" she said, pointing to the hat. "When he was on the ground?"
"Yeah!" the bully replied, stepping out of the passageway. "It was- sweet tittyfucking Inima, what the fuck is going on?"
A crowd had gathered in the corridor up ahead, ogling a being of some sort- a strange, overly tall creature that appeared to be made of leaves. Beatrix frowned. "Awww, this hallway is normally quiet..." He eyes seemed to ripple slightly. "Want me to shadowport us outta here?"
The Thanati boy shook his head. "Wait a sec, I wanna know what's going on..." The two stepped forwards, hanging back at the edge of the crowd..."
Neese was clearly enjoying all of the attention, the smile on his face, more akin to a sly grin. He tilted his head as if pondering. He didn't have wings, whatever the rumors might have said, but he was indeed, a real Fae.
"I have five... seven, no, no ten apprentices I could spare..." one of the professors was saying, "just for the smallest sample - a little peace of one of the twigs from your shoulder, perhaps?" He looked hopeful, and for the briefest moment Neese seemed like he might oblige the man.
"It's a very generous offer," he said at length, his voice low and smooth, melodic almost, "but I'm afraid I'm not lacking in human souls." Oh, he supposed Serenians were not so specifically human, but they were close enough in his mind for it not to make much of a difference. "Perhaps," he added, just to tease, "if you're very clever you might come up with someone more interesting to offer." However, he pushed past the man easily, his strength was not apparent in relation to his lanky frame.
Amusement played allover Neese's face, at Ria's question. He tilted his head and considered. "You know," he said, having never considered it, "I haven't been to the faerie courts in so long, I couldn't rightly say." He looked over the little boy, for that was certainly what he was. "Tell me, what is your name?" he expected something in return for his answer.
It was at that moment however that some over-eager scholar or professor leaned forward, reaching out a hand with a blade, determined to steal a sample if one could not be bartered. Neese whirled around so quick he'd look like a blur to those watching. The room grew darker and people and objects near by cast long shadows in the wrong directions. Even though he didn't grow in height, Neese seemed to loom taller over everyone and particularly the offending person. "You would be wise," his voice took on a deep, rolling sound, like a giant bolder crashing down a hill, "to stay your over curious hand. It's impolite to take without giving."
He frowned. That was a problem - if the fae was some kind of a hermit or an outcast in the courts, he was pretty much useless - neither could he shed light on his people's fashion, nor could he cause a revolution. Ria should probably go to a study hall and start on the homework - both copies of it.
He would have left right now, but suddenly the fae wanted to know his name. That was suspicious. Ria did not want him to steal his name - not that he was very attached to it, but still, he knew better than giving away personal information - especially to a fae!
"I'm not selling my soul and name!" he exclaimed.
Someone tried to perform a facepalm, but got her hand stuck in a pocket. "I'm sorry, Fae Lord. Upperclassman Thalance is an idiot."
The offending hand receded and the light and shadows in the room returned to normal. Neese turned back toward Ria. He smiled, and chuckled lightly. Wise... maybe, or else foolish for a different reason. Offending Neese was never a good idea. "No one asked you for yous soul, little one," he said, "I believe I already said I wasn'tl lacking in them..." He didn't mention the name part though, because he would buy such information as that.
Looking down a the gnome who had spoken up. "Thalance," he repeated, glancing back at Ria, and then to the even short being beside him. "You may call me Lord Neese," he said to her, "and what, may I ask, is your name?"
"Neese to meet you" one student grinned. Someone groaned at the pun.
The gnome folded her arms. The gesture strangely reminded Ria of Vesyll, although it could be just superficial resemblance. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to trade a piece of your bark for the name?"
"What would you even do with a piece of a fae?" one of the professors demanded. "Do you have any idea how should you keep it to preserve its magic outside of the Faerie lands?"
"No idea" the gnome admitted. "But I'm sure you do, and would be willing to trade for class credit."
Ria was content to leave them to their bargaining. He pushed out of the crowd surrounding the fae. It was almost as hard as getting in - very strange, if the others wanted to see the fae or talk to him, they should let him through! He was making space for them, after all!
"I wish proper manners were magic" he grumbled. "Then all those barbarians wouldn't have an excuse of not knowing any!"
His gaze fell on Aahva, and for the first time in... practically the entirety of his life in Wyrdwood, he approved. "Well, I'm glad that you've made an effort to turn yourself into a respectable person!" he exclaimed. "That's a very nice hat! Emulating Plutonius is indeed a pathway to greatness!"
"What's going on? I can't hear anything!"
Aahva stood on his tiptoes, straining to see over the crowd of students and teachers. Why was everybody at this school so freakishly tall? Was the entire country like this?
Beatrix sighed. "Hang on. Prop me up?" The blue-haired girl closed her eyes, and her shadow extended ito the crowd. Aahva immediately grabbed her by the shoulders- moving her conscience like this while standing often caused the girl to loose balance and fall over. "Okay..." the girl mumbled, almost as if in a trance. "There's s fey... People are offering gifts... Ew, it's talking to-"
As if on cue, Ria stepped out of the crowd, babbling about Aahva's new hat. The Thanati boy's eyes narrowed, and his grip on Beatrix tightened. "More like the path to gayness, Thalance!" he said caustically. "That dick-sniffer made the hat look retarded! Figured I'd do everyone a favor and take it from him." Aahva gave the fashionista a nasty grin. "Maybe I should take those robes of yours next!"
Aahva never ceased to disappoint him - and probably everyone else he interacted with. Here Ria was hoping that the bully could grow into a better, more aesthetically pleasing person - but of course, he was given too much credit. He was making even less sense than usual - as if something like 'path to gayness' could ever be true! If some kind of mythical way to be always merry and carefree existed, it would probably be through drugs - and Ria could attest that Plutonius' hat had nothing to do with this.
He blinked, surprised, at the last line. "Well, you wouldn't be the first person to want to take my clothes off - and I assure you, I'm just as gorgeous without my robes - but some boring idiot put public indecency on the list of activities forbidden in the school. And I usually expect courting and compliments before I let someone undress me."
For all their interest in him, Serenian humans didn't seem to have very much respect for or the appropriate amount of fear of Fae. Neese rolled his eyes at the person who made a play on the sound of his name.
As the conversation and focus seemed to be drawn away from Neese specifically, and more into petty bickering between the various mortals about, Neese grew board, and simply disappeared. He didn't really vanish into thin air, he did go invisible though, and slip past the throng of people blocking his path. Maybe someone more interesting would care to take up his time later.
Neese reappeared at the other end of the hall and continued walking on his way, in search of his target.
Aahva's face twisted into a grimace. "You degenerate fucking cockbite!" he said through clenched teeth. "Maybe I
won't take your robe- I'll set it on fire while you're still in it!"
"What's going on?" Beatrix had opened her eyes, shadow returning to normal. "We can't set him on fire, we're surrounded by people!" Her eyes focused on her best friend, who was still holding onto her shoulders. "You can let go now, doof."
Aahva quickly let go, arms returning to his side. Were his cheeks pink, just a little? Beatrix couldn't tell. "Right..." the boy said, angrily turning to walk away. "C'mon Trixie, this loser isn't worth it..."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack.Lulu (http://www.spiritsoftheearth.net/smf/index.php?topic=24735.0) walked with a spring in her step, the sound of her stave hitting the floor echoing throughout the hall. She was humming an odd, off-beat tune, her body swaying with the music as she moved. Behind her an older student walked almost robotically, carrying a stack of Lulu's books.
The Connlaothian girl would lift a hand in greeting as she passed the abnormally tall plant being in the hallway, smiling as if it were an everyday occurance. "Hello! Goodbye! Don't get lost!"
Neese tilted his head as the tiny little girl clacked past him. "Oh, I'm not lost child... I am precisely where I wish to be. It's a someone not a someplace I seek. Perhaps you could help me find them?"
He smiled at her something that rode the line between indulgent and wicked. "I might even be inclined to owe you a favor if you would point me in the direction of who I seek. I'm looking for a Torverath, it's my understanding that the youngest one is a guest of this... fine? establishment."
"Favor?"
Lulu stopped, mentally ordering the student behind her to do the same. She looked at the being, eyes glowing. "I can help you, yes yes! But only if your favor is not owing me a favor." The girl rocked her crook back and forth rhythemically, swaying on her feet slightly. "I don't favor favors. I find them unfavorable."
"Oh?" Neese said, "You don't want to be owed a favor from me?" He grinned like that cat that caught the canary. "I wonder if you are being wise, or just odd." He chuckled softly.
"Well then, I suppose you can help me for free... though I find it rather tasteless. There should always be an exchange - a thing for a thing, but if it is your wish... I am looking for a prince." He smirked, as if laughing at a personal joke. "A likely rather disliked and unlucky prince. I believe, in fact, he is here as a subject of study."
Beneath the goofy smile and bright eyes, Lulu felt a twinge of annoyance. "Does it really think that it can show up out of the blue and start offering things without people getting suspicious?" she thought, shifting on her feet slightly. "All while looking like that? What does it take me for?"
Instead of voicing any of these thoughts, however, Lulu simply lifted her crook into the air. "Tomatoes!" she exclaimed happily. "There are tomatoes in the kitchen!" She tilted her head to the side. "If I were you, I'd get them before somebody else did..."
Neese chuckled softly. Oh, he didn't think no one would be suspicious of him, however, it still wasn't right - to receive something without giving something in return... he disliked leaving the scales unbalanced.
"Tomatoes?" Neese looked at her oddly. "I wasn't looking for lunch, child... but I suppose I shouldn't expect much for a free favor." He shrugged and turned away from her, and started walking off. He supposed he'd be left to his own devices to find his long-lost oath keeper.
The school, if it could loosely be called that, was by and large a mystery to her. While she was certainly there of her own volition, and part of her was happy that they were away from the homeland, another part of her was fully aware she was a fish out of water. Hells, she was a fish that had been tossed in the forest and told to fly. The things that happened in the place, the people that were there, and the subjects being studied were just not... what Kassandra was equipped to deal with.
That being said, she had taken an oath to take care of her friend and if this was where he needed to be, then... that's where she was going to be too. Kassandra was a martially minded woman and much preferred swinging her sword at both things, and problems, but there were a couple of classes that had to do with enchantments and the use of them in combat. Particularly the runic one passed down through her family, which a sparse few found to be fascinating. Kassandra was a little proud of it, but it was a quiet pride. Not something she wandered around boasting about.
Be that as it stood, she was dressed down for the afternoon and idly making her way through the halls. She'd been asked to retrieve a couple of books for study from a library her friend had been asked to no longer go in after an accident. Such things had been happening to Val his whole life. The curse, as it were. While Kassandra wasn't inclined to believe that someone could have their entire life ruined so thoroughly, and certainly believed there was a way through all this, she was also smart enough to know when to bow to more knowledgeable minds.
Since she hadn't had classes herself yet, she was just in her tanktop, boots, and pants. Something she rather regretted when she spotted something decidedly unhuman in the halls. Kassanda didn't have anything against other races, or cultures, but when a wandering plant was making its way toward her, she just happened to feel a little safer with a sword. Or a couple pieces of armor.
Best to leave such oddities alone, though.
A sword. Neese would have laughed at the thought if he'd known it, what a human reaction. He didn't alter his path toward the woman though. He cocked his head at her, and smiled. "You look rather out of place in this place of scholarship... you rather look the sort that prefers to break things." He chuckled softly. His movements not quite natural, too smooth and fluid, he nearly glided across the floor.
"Not one to follow the rules, either, hum?" He grinned, clearly enjoying the fact as he touched the hem of her oddly small shirt. It was revealing for people of this culture, not that he cared or minded. Neese, after all, was dressed in not but a loin cloth.
"Perhaps you could assist me? I seem to have lost someone." Well not really lost, he knew the subject of his contract was on the school grounds, but locating him more precisely had proven difficult.
@SanctifiedSavage
She should have known. Kassandra's luck was such that if she didn't want to be involved with something, that
something was going to involve itself with her. Even though she was rather non-descript, or so she thought, and had no magical talent to speak of outside of the protection enchantment tattooed onto her body.
It'd have been rude to ignore the creature and, no matter how much she might not want to deal with whatever was going on, Kassandra wasn't rude. Even so, she'd really wished she had her sword instead of the books she was presently carrying. It might not have helped and she wouldn't readily brandish it toward someone, or something, that was just talking to her but it made her feel better.
The grin didn't inspire a similar response in the Knight, but neither was she upset it was talking to her. At least, not outwardly. Kassandra's expression was carefully neutral. The sort of mask Knights were taught to wear around nobility they either didn't like or knew nothing about. When the plant thing reached out to touch her, Kassandra did shift subtly to make it clear she didn't want to be touched, but it was a smooth, slow movement. There was a fine line between
don't do that and trying not to be offensive, since she knew nothing of what she was dealing with.
When asked if she could assist the plant creature, Kassandra glanced up and down the hall. Clearly making it apparent that she was confused it was asking
her. Of all the people in the place to ask, Kassandra didn't think she'd be one but... "I'm not sure I can help you find who you are looking for," she replied honestly. Whomever said plant-creature was looking for must be as exotically strange as it was, but she'd humor the question if only because it was the polite thing to do. Manners were answered with manners.
@Marjorie
Neese chuckled softly. He didn't pull his hand back when the woman shifted, displeased with his overly familiar attitude. "No, you don't fit these people... but you fit another." His long, slender fingers continued reaching for her, stretching out now to brush along the tattooing on her arm. "And more like me than them, I think... In some ways at least."
He paused then looked at her directly.
"Oath keeper."
He pulled his fingers back and tapped his chin. "That's an interesting magic on you," he said, "I'm Arlan. You could call me the Lord of Oarhs. I am looking for the subject of a contract of mine.
"A young Torverath."
@SanctifiedSavage
She didn't know what he was, and mostly, Kassandra just didn't care. A frown worked its way across her face and when the plant-thing didn't take the hint she didn't want to be touched, and did not like how overly familiar it was being, Kassandra took a real step back.
The Knight couldn't begin to guess what it was he was talking about, not right away. Not until the creature mentioned
Oath keeper. Her frown remained but nothing else changed. Not her posture, not her expression. Giving nothing away. She'd have been a poor Knight indeed if she had.
So. The thing had a name.
Kassandra could guess where this was going, so she was quite prepared when Val's last name tumbled from its mouth. She shook her head a little and shrugged. "I don't think I can help you," she lied smoothly. There would be no way in the nine layers of the hells that she'd be leading some weird plant creature off to Val.
@Marjorie
"You hide your feelings better than most mortals." The Fae lord smirked.
"Mm..." Neese tisked and shook his head. "I know he's here to find a cure, child." When she stepped back, Neese didn't follow, but neither did he back off. "It is not a curse though, and my contacts
cannot be broken. They can, however, be altered, amended, or absolved."
He cocked his head. "I keep promises, contracts,oaths, and bonds," all different words for the same thing. They carried a little in meaning, and those variations could be vital, but the spirit of all of them was, essentially, the same. "You'd be a poor defender of you Prince, friend, or employer - whatever it is you call the keeper of your oath, if you didn't let him hear me out."
Oh, Neese could have gotten to his goal without this mortal. However, this was, by far, the more interesting way to go about it.
@SanctifiedSavage
Kassandra continued to watch the plant-creature-thing, but her expression was a neutral mask. She hadn't heard of Val making any sort of contract, oath, or bond to any sort of anything – and she'd known him for quite a long time. That the thing knew his name wasn't entirely a surprise. He was nobility. To Kassandra, people knowing his name was just normal. That also meant that there might be others out there to do him harm, and she wouldn't be the one to throw the dagger at her friend.
So as the creature spoke, she remained impassive and unmoved. She'd not really believed in the whole
unlucky thing anyways. They were here because Kassandra wanted to get him away from... well, all of that.
That the creature was trying to tug at the strings of loyalty only irritated her further. Leave it to an inhuman creature to not understand the bonds of loyalty and friendship, she supposed.
So, when the thing – Arlan – was done talking, she shook her head a little and shrugged her shoulder casually. "I don't know any of what you're talking about." Like any good liar, she met his gaze steadily when she said it. There wasn't a thing that would coerce her to bring any sort of trouble to Val's door, especially when she knew
absolutely nothing about whatever sort of oath, contract, or bond the plant-thing was talking about.
It sounded like a half-informed lie, if anything.
@Marjorie
Neese, or Arlan, both were his name... names for different aspects of the same being - smirked. He tilted his head. "I don't suppose you
would know," the Fae lord said, "I imagine your young prince doesn't even know. He's not the one, after all, who agreed to the terms... but he
is the one subject to them this time around."
Neese chuckled softly.
"I do know, however," Arlan took in a deep breath threw his nose, "that you know him. I can smell him on you." He wasn't suggesting intimacy between them, just familiarity - in fact, he couldn't actually smell the prince on her at all, but he could see her duty to him woven into the magic branded into her flesh.
"He's not unlucky, or unliked, neither is he cursed... What would be willing to give or do or suffer if you could assure the prosperity and safety of your people, if you could ensure they would thrive? It's a question I asked a King once..."
Neese glanced to the side, down the hall. "But if you refuse to show me to him," he looked suddenly and directly back at her, "then I will find him on my own. I am quite sure he is the subject of study here, not a normal student, whatever his covering lie may be."
@SanctifiedSavage
Kassandra continued to watch the odd creature, committing some detail to memory so she might be able to recall this encounter with some degree of clarity. Beyond that, though, she had nothing more to offer this particular encounter. She would not be helping the plant-creature-thing, no matter the honeyed words it said, nor the supposed reason it said them.
There could be any manner of things or reasons that someone might be at the school, and study was one of the most general. If anything, the fact that such an odd thing was looking for her friend had just put her on edge and, once she was done here, she was going to hunt him down and suggest they relocate to somewhere with some degree of safety until she could be certain this would blow over.
While she didn't know whether or not the plant-creature really was connected to Val, that didn't really matter when it seemed quite certain it its capabilities of finding him. Her job, both as a friend and as his guard, was to make sure that didn't happen. Unarmed as she presently was, Kassandra couldn't just... go after him. Neither did she particularly think it would've been a fair fight if she did. Something about him was off and odd, which meant she was likely to have a rough time with a sword against such a thing.
She shifted in place, though it could've been misconstrued as impatience, and shrugged her shoulder again. "Say whatever you like, I don't have the information you want."
That was that. Unless he was going to somehow force her to talk, Kassandra was done with him and this entire meeting. She put another step of distance between them, then turned to walk away. Kassandra planned on roaming the halls for a bit, just to make sure she wasn't being followed. Maybe she'd even stop to get something to eat, just to make sure, then she'd make her way to Val to talk to him about... this entire mess.
@Marjorie
Neese smiled, his words were not honeyed. They where, as always, exactingly sincere and honest. That didn't mean there was no trickery in them though. Tricking someone with at truth was by far more satisfying that tricking someone with a lie.
Neese, could, when he found his query, upset the entire balance of a Kingdom by bringing to light a generations old contract, and the possible means of absolving it. He'd only made the offer once before, and lucky for his people, the person had been willing to self sacrifice. Too bad for him, he died in a situation which could only be considered related to the incredibly bad luck of being caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, and so the contract had moved on to fulfill its self on his future generations until it came to the subject it currently inflicted itself on.
Neese grinned, seeming rather pleased with himself, somehow. "I do enjoy," he said with resounding pleasure in his tone, "the way mortals lie with such conviction." He laughed, a sound full of mirth, and then turned, glancing at lantern lighting this hall - fueled by magic to prevent smoke from poisoning the air. The mirrored background reflected the light nicely. He reached out to touch the reflective surface with his fingers and the shape and size of him warped as he stepped into and then threw the mirror. He came out on the other side threw the reflection off of a shiny pain of glass that served as a window in another room of the school.
"Doctor Ayleward, there's someone emulating you!"
"I'm afraid there is very little information I gleaned off this tidbit" Carvaine sighed, waving his arm dramatically. Small rainbows came off it, a simple trick of the light. It was almost a pity that the student accosting him was human (or a very good approximation of one). He practiced endlessly to get the colours of the wider spectrum to show, half out of natural showmanship, half out of determination - just because his human eyes couldn't see shades of ultraviolet was not going to stop him from manipulating it.
"Oh, there's some other weird plant thing walking around."
Perhaps Carvaine should have felt offended. Not by the plant part - emulation was the finest method of expressing one's admiration; what bothered him was how she dismissed his hard work. He actually went to one of the floramancers to get feedback on his new ensemble of illusion, then painstakingly amended every separate flower to have taxonomically accurate number of petals. Unfortunately, it looked like his effort to never become boring or complacent was for naught, and most of the staff and students have gotten used to his more and more elaborate semblances. And now there was even someone plantlike wandering the halls, and while Carvaine tried to stay positive and just be happy that someone either had a similar fashion sense or a talent for replication, he was no miracle maker.
"Well then, there's only one thing to do!" he decided. "I have to go and have a stimulating conversation with this person about fashion and flora!" There was no point getting his knickers in a twist about it - he would take it with a head held high and an open mind.
He didn't have to look for the one labeled as weird plant thing long. Fate decided to assist him, or perhaps just speed his doom; as he barely crossed a hallway, he noticed the light moving strangely in the former pulvomancy classroom. It was no longer a proper room - most of the walls were blown away after an invigorating workshop two weeks ago. The event sparked quite a discussion - some of the staff insisted that the entire Wyrdwood be covered in as many protective spells as the windows (oh, Carvaine wished that he was employed back when this annoying reflection spirit was still haunting the academy!), others argued that it would be dangerous to further interfere with the delicate spellwork woven around the buildings. For now, it was a curious location that served some upperclassmen for exchanging favours.
Still, the light coming from the interior was bent in a strange way. Were the students using illusions to hide? Well then, he should definitely drop in and instruct them! Technically, as a member of the staff, he was supposed to admonish them, but in this case he followed Professor Zinc's school of not giving a... thought.
As he entered, what he saw was not some students hiding under an ill-constructed illusion but a being unlike anything he's seen before. It must have been the one he was searching for. He manipulated the light streaming into the room, but it had no effect on the other - it was no illusion. It must have been real.
Oh it was magic, but indeed, it was no illusion. To fae, reflective surfaces were mirrors, and mirrors to fae were doors. Doors that were as easily accessed as the mind aim sort the everyday person walked threw regularlly, for fae were creatures that belonged to the in between places.
Neese had appeared as a reflection in the glass first, and then stepped out of it into the room.
Neither was Neese's apearance an illusion though there was magic inherent in a creature made both of flesh and blood and stick and leaf. All of him was living, though he sometimes hed shed dead leaves and curls of bark.
He looked down at Dr. Ayleward with a smile. He stepped forward, far too close for polite company. The leafy appendages on his face and twigs at his joints rustling gently in the silence of the mostly empyty room, as he moved closer yet, and fingered one of the flowers - though as an illusion he couldn't actually touch it. A funny thing happens thought, as Neese "touched" it the flower became real, rooting into the professor's shirt and sprouting leaves. "Such attention to detail," he said, "even with your cantrips. You mustn't be one of the students."
Neese grinned amused. "What do you call yourself, mortal?" This one might be interesting to you with, but latter... at the moment he had a goal in mind.
Carvaine's eyes widened as the flower he'd conjured became real. It felt strange and unlike anything he's experienced before. He cooperated with materiamancers before, creating an illusionary model for them to fill and work from, but this strangely beautiful being made his very magic flesh. The spell he used for this flower was gone, reshaped in a way he couldn't perceive or understand. Whoever this creature was, he must have been very powerful.
Carvaine shifted the light around himself. The petals of what flowers he had left wilted, withered and surrendered to the gust that was not there. From the core of each a new fruit sprung, bright with colour and shining with health. Were someone to enter the ruined classroom, they would surely be convinced enough to try and pick one, only to have their hand grasp at the empty air.
It was instinctual, something he only became aware of when the change was almost complete. It was unexpected - he sometimes did things without thinking, but never on such a scale. Well, now that it was over, it would probably be better not to change again - he already had a reputation of being fickle, and perhaps it was time to say farewell to this old guise anyway. He ran his fingers over the delicate petals round the materialised flower, the only plant that has not succumbed to the new season. Perhaps he could cover it up with an illusion, but something told him not to. It was no longer his.
"My name is Carvaine Ayleward" he introduced himself. "I suppose I should be offended by your estimate of Wyrdwood's people. But you guessed correctly, and I do not punish my students for reaching the objective by a path different than what I envisioned, and it would be irrational of me to hold a stranger to different standards."
Neese's smile widened when the human's spell shifted and changed, an alteration of the season, and with such ease - as a thought - and such detail. More impressive than the magic (for the spell itself was childish in its simplicity compared to Neese's ability) was the ease and lack of effort put into it.
Indeed not a student. He couldn't fault the man for bearing weaker magics than he, after-all... the fae blood in the people of Serendipity which the people so loved to flaunt and boast, was so much diluted that Neese would never even consider himself very, very distantly related to them.
"I dare say I would be impressed, if you managed to punish me," the man probably should have been insulted, Neese had, after all, called his magic simple. "I have a great love for artisans, Carvaine, and I cannot immagine what else one might call this," he gestured vaguely toward the illusion clinging to the professor, "than that."
Vanity showed threw in the way that Neese's body and expression shifted, then. "You may call me Devyn," he said, thinking that, likely this artist would appreciate the concourse of all things skillful and beautiful, that existed within him. The twig-like appendages coming off of his shoulders budded, leafed out, and then sprouted an array of different kinds of flowers - were they two showing off for one another now? Perhaps. It might be a fun game to play.
But then he waved a hand dismissively and the leaves and flowers, still vibrant and fresh dropped off and tumbled to the floor. They were quite real, Carcaine could have picked one of the flowers up and smelled it. Neese didn't like walking around looking like a bush, as much as he did enjoy showing off, and seeing the awe and wonderment of mortals and simple party tricks.
Arlan had something of a goal at the moment though, and the oath-maker was always rather forceful with his presence, even when Devyn wanted to play.
"I'm looking for someone," Neese, or Devyn -- rather it was Arlan, who said, "I am quite sure they are here... somewhere, however I haven't yet been able to locate him.
"I seek the young Prince, Valerain Torverath. I would consider myself in your debt if you could assist me in finding him." The way his smile shifted into a smirk suggested that having Neese in his debt could bring the professor something unexpected.
That was quite flattering to hear, especially from a being of such power. Carvaine has met with artists before, some of whom exhibited interest in his illusion magic. Sometimes they asked him to give form to what their skill could not, and he assisted them to the best of his ability. It was truly fascinating to see what they could come up with.
Devyn's body responded to Carvaine's magic, a few twigs blooming proudly as if showing off, not wanting to lose in a beauty contest to a mortal. Perhaps this was the reason behind the light mage's actions, less of a conscious decision and more of a natural response by his magic alone. It made some eerie kind of sense - all Serenians were descended from fae, his talent was merely recognising its origin and formulating a greeting in the one language they shared.
Now that he recognized the mysterious visitor for who he was, Carvaine felt like some pieces fell into place and his understanding of the situation deepened. And while he was quite curious, he had a feeling that just because the fae liked his illusions, he shouldn't bother him with questions. The Fair Folk were not famed for their patience with mortals, or their stability.
And here came another proof of Devyn's fickleness as the flowers that bloomed verdantly just a second ago, were now subject to the harsh law of gravity rather than the will of their creator. Carvaine remembered an old story he heard once discussed, how the seasons came from the warring fae courts that wanted to make the world more beautiful. Their power was connected to the passage of time, just like the phases of the moon commanded the tides, and each time the season changed, it bore the colours of the dominant court.
There was a question of what exactly did a fae want within Wyrdwood, but before Carvaine began to even ponder it in greater depth, Devyn voiced his request. The mage instinctively began combing his memory for such a student. No prince attended his classes, so it would have come up almost empty, were it not for a particular infamy surrounding this particular boy. There were plenty of rumours as well as evidence of his curse's effects, and while it sounded certainly like a fascinating case to approach, the light weaver was quite relieved that it was not his problem to solve.
"Yes, there is such a student here in Wyrdwood" Carvaine confirmed. He wasn't sure if 'student' was a good term for this situation - the young prince was here clearly for having his curse researched and hopefully lifted, and while he attended classes, most professors had enough common sense not to let him do any practical magic. And while it was certainly possible that the the misfortune surrounding the boy was too weak to affect a fae, the light weaver did not want to make an enemy out of someone so powerful because of stupid assumptions. "But there's something wrong with him. Some kind of a curse."
The warring of the courts... how long ago had he removed himself from the greater going's on and in fighting of the Fae courts? He could no longer count the number of years, though, if he'd wanted to reinsert himself into them, they would have to acknowledge his lordship amount them, as his birth right... and those of his children. He did have them, somewhere, bastards and half-breeds, all of them, but that mattered little to his people. Provable linage was more important.
Neese chuchkled at the professor's mention of the curse. "Oh, but it's not a curse," he smirked, something knowing, "though I do understand the schools efforts to break it have been nothing shy of valiant."
Arlan looked the professor up and down then, as if gauging him. Gauging the cost of information, and if he wanted to share it. "It's my magic that afflicts him, and I hold the contract that binds him." He did indeed wonder on the amount of gossip that bit of knowledge might bring about. Surly, even a daft mortal would understand the significance of what he'd just told him.
Carvaine's eyes widened with surprise, he didn't even bother to hide his reaction to this news. If it was true, that would explain why the academy had such trouble breaking the curse, or even researching it - it was simply a question of power. It was natural that the Serenian magic, gained from the Fae would not match up to their ancestor's powers. If it was true.
It was the nature of academia to question everything that has not been proven, and Carvaine had spent enough time in Wyrdwood to develop this habit. The Fae weren't exactly known for their honesty, or describing the situation in terms comprehensible for mortals; and there was little the mage could do to test the hypothesis just provided to him. Scholars of the Fair Folk struggled to reconcile their capricious and whimsical subjects of research with the cut and dry experimental method, and the light weaver doubted that he could that easily solve a problem the entire field struggled with.
"So you're here to check up on the results of your actions?" he commented cheerfully. "How responsible of you!"
Neese nodded. "Yes," he agreed, "and to offer him a choice... He didn't enter into the contract, after-all, someone else did it on his behalf, and I always offer the target of this contract the choice to be free of it." There would be consequences thought, of course, if he chose to be free of it. There were always consequences.
"Would you bring me to Valerain? I would consider myself in your debt if you would be so kind." Cashing in on that debt might be risky, but that was the way that Neese liked it.
The mage's eyes widened slightly at the revelation presented to him, but his smile quickly returned to its full brightness. "That's very fair of you! I'm sure the poor boy will be glad to be given a way out!" The idea that a truly fair person probably wouldn't have allowed a contract that innocents can be entered into without their knowledge of consent, either didn't occur to him or he had enough self-preservation not to point it out.
"This way" he offered, turning around and already beginning to leave the classroom. "The academy staff put him in one of the single dorms - he used to live in the common ones, but after complaints piled up with his curse affecting other students, he was moved."
NEese chuckled slightly. Fairness was not really something he ever considered when it came to his contracts and oath. He liked to bind things and people. That was more important. He also liked things, in the end, to balance out or find equilibrium... he was ok if he did that by way of committing a murder one day and saving an innocent life the next, though.
He was not bound by mortal ideals or morality nor was he concerned with them.
"Thank you," Neese said, following the professor out of the room and toward his goal.
A person more experienced in dealing with Fae, or just equipped with proper knowledge of as much as any Serenian child; would be very alarmed by such smile. Someone properly paranoid, or just very aware of what might happen, would even seek out a nice demon to sell their soul to, to have it protected by an outside force and hopefully kept safe from the Fair Folks. But the illusionist's cheerful smile and carefree gait made it clear that he was lacking in either common sense or information.
"If you peek out of the window here, you will have a lovely look at the main campus. Only one tower offers a better overview of Wyrdwood" he chattered amiably, clearly taking his role as a tour guide seriously. "Just watch out for the ivy - some pranksters enchanted it recently to... although, perhaps you have nothing to fear from plants."
"Mmm..." Neese glanced to the side when he was offered one of the best views of the school, lingering dangerously close to the ivy, which reached out as if to greet him, but didn't actually dare touch him. "It is a nice view," he said, "was the school designed to look like a castle... You should see the spindling towers of my home, wrought with pure magic and imagination." His smile was sly, but it was only maybe an offer anyway. The Fae lands were as treacherous as they were beautiful, those in-between places.
He leaned away from the ivy then and continued walking, long strides easily catching him up to his guide once again.
"Oh, it was originally built as just a castle" Carvaine began to explain. He wasn't an expert on Wyrdwood's history, and it wasn't something he had to discuss frequently - most of the students knew where they were going, and the historians saw no point to including him in their discussions. "It was just repurposed as a school. I think my students like it. The noble children keep complaining about how their mansions are far grander and more beautiful, but I think they prefer the familiar environment. And to those of lower classes, it is a good mark of what their life will be from that moment on."
His smile took on a wistful shade as the Fae recalled his home. Carvaine wasn't one of the scholars who would happily give a limb to be allowed into their realm (and have been probably pestering Devyn and his kind to make such a trade), but he could appreciate the beauty of the vision his words painted.
"That sounds truly lovely! The way I heard your realm described, I sometimes wonder why would the Fae ever leave it!" he chuckled.
Devyn - Neese smiled something dangerous like the glint of light off sharp steel. "We like to tinker and toy," with mortals he meant, "and when one could go anywhere... why wouldn't they go everywhere?"
He shrugged. "Home is always a place that is never far away for a fae anyway... no further than one's own reflection."
That sounded quite convenient. Such surfaces were more common than one might think - there was water and other fluids, eyes of most species... It was quite crafty of the Fae to choose something like that to act as their gate, he had to admit. As a wielder of light, he knew quite a lot about reflections. He remembered several scholars that tried to get his cooperation on a project of theirs. They were trying to test if it was the interaction with light that allowed mirrors to become gateways to the realm of the Fae. It was only polite to help them out, although he never learned if they succeeded. They just stopped contacting him.
They reached the exit of the building. "The dorms are over there - well, most of it" he began to explain. "Your, uh, friend, will probably be there - unless he's attending a class."
"Thank you for your assistance, Carvaine" Devyn - Neese said, giving a rather grand looking bow, which was obviously unnecessary, "consider me in your debt." Whatever that meant, Neese left to the professor to try and divine, as he swept himself back up to his full height with a smirk and headed off toward the dorms.
--
Inside the dorms, Neese slipped along the walls like a lanky shadow, avoiding students that might be over eager or over enthusiastic about finding a real fae among their thinned out mixed blood. That is, until he came upon a door that just seemed to feel right. He knocked - how quaint. " Valerain Torverath," he called threw the door, opening it without waiting for permission to do so, "are you in?"
It looked like the awareness spell prepared by Master Hallain has been working well. Val could sense the curse laid upon him, like a dark cloud churning around his self. Its suffocating, constant presence was disconcerting - he reminded himself that the only thing that changed was his way he viewed it. His eyes were merely opened to what has always been there.
He probably should start making a report for Master Hallain, but he could see the curse curling around the inkwell on the desk - if he tried writing, he would probably end up knocking it over and spilling all over the paper. He would just have to remember to describe it later to her - especially the sudden change half an hour ago. He couldn't quite define what was going on, even after learning more specialized vocabulary he still lacked words - but it felt as if his curse was given a new life. It was electrified, spreading further than ever before, almost breathing the darkness greedily.
It was almost reaching towards something, curling in different directions. Val had enough common sense not to succumb to curiosity - it couldn't be good, not with his curse involved. Still, he was glad to at least be able to see what was happening. Perhaps he could use it as some sort of a compass to try and at least avoid curse-caused accidents?
He tried to occupy himself by trying to put his impression into words, but soon the intensity grew to the point that he could no longer overlook it. It was like being surrounded by thick, roiling miasma, something dark and primal, but almost alive. And it was yearning towards the outside, with renewed force. Val curled up under the desk, fighting waves of fear and nausea. He could only hope that it was a temporary fluctuation and that it would pass soon.
He heard footsteps, then someone knocking He wanted to shout a warning - nothing good could happen today, and this person would be putting themself in danger if they came into the range. But the bile choked his words down and he could do nothing but watch as the door swung open, making way for-
That was a strange sight even for Wyrdwood. Despite having spent months here, he found that he still had no idea who this mysterious visitor could be. But it seemed like his curse knew; it practically radiated fawning, reaching for the stranger - not even to corrupt and twist as was its wont, but the way a loyal dog may rub against the legs of his returning master. It knew him, and it submitted to him.
And Neese knew the feeling of his own magic. It's energy reaching out to him in tendrils, he couldn't see, but he could feel it... and he caressed the unseen currents with his fingers, twig and leaf like appendages rustling as he did so.
"Ahh... at last," Neese said, "Valerain Torverath." He grinned, something both gleeful and dangerous. He tilted his head then, curious, and moved closer to the figure huddled under the desk. "They've devised a way to... see it, for you, yes?" He chuckled softly. "I wonder how they think that might help you." They yes certainly, because this one couldn't have done it himself. He didn't have the gift.
"To you," he said, moving closer still, and observing the boy's fear with open curiosity, "I am Lord Arlan, of the Fae Court, the Oath Maker, and you have been bound into one of my contracts." He waved his hand threw the dark swirls, even though Neese couldn't see them, he could feel the currents of his own magic, their energy was a small part of him after all. "You may also call me Neese, as I am here to reveal to you to conditions of the contract into which you have been bound, and offer you a choice." That was rather cryptic and un-revealing, however; Arlan wasn't bothered by it, and frankly, neither was Neese. He never lied, but that didn't mean he wasn't, quite often, deceptive.
It was strange, unlike anything he's experienced before. The man before him could see the curse, but didn't seem to be concerned at all about it. And rightfully so - the strange being glowed with magical power, enough to protect him even if it did somehow turn on him. Val's words of warning died on his lips - they were clearly unnecessary and perhaps even insulting.
His ears weren't at their best today, and yet he could hear every word the man spoke with perfect clarity, as if the curse withdrew its influence in respect to his voice. The eerie man - a Fae Lord, by his own admission - was clearly aware of what was going on and even addressed the spell upon him. No wonder - Wyrdwood was such a trove of knowledge, and he's heard that magic was as natural to the Fair Folk as breathing air, they could have as well invented it - according to the Serenian creation myths, they've had.
He crawled from under the desk - the curse's effects seemed to have abated, as if withdrawing to make room for their master's presence. Wyrdwood taught its students not to take anything on its word and always test a hypothesis before accepting it, but he could not deny the truth of what was revealed to him. It would be like denying the ground its pull or denying the sun its light. Even without the spell, he felt like he would have been able to acknowledge it somehow.
"How should I address you, then? Lord Arlan? Lord Neese?" His head was almost exploding, so he forced himself to focus on something remotely familiar. He's had etiquette drilled into his head since he was old enough to apply the rules. His knowledge of the Fae was by no means extensive, but from what little he's heard, they were not the kind to suffer rudeness lightly.
Oh, Arlan liked that. He was all about rules and promises, trades, and binding oaths. He liked etiquette much more than Neese or Devyn or Conchobar or Kirwin., and while he wasn't particularly one to stand o ceremony, he was very much one to stand on the premises of others knowing he was their better. "Lord Arlan," he said, because it felt the most fitting, "I am here to discus the terms of a contract with you." He waved a hand almost dismissively at the chair. "I'm not here to harm you," at least not now or today, whatever the outcome of their discussion was.
"I am sure by now, you have discovered, to some extent, the effects of the spell I've placed on you're line. You are not the first and not likely to be the last of the Torverath's to fall under the conditions of my contract.
"Ill luck and misfortune," he continued, "shall fall upon the chosen of each generation of the royal blood line of Torverath from the moment of their birth until the moment of their death. In addition, the condition of being outcast, disliked, and unwanted shall fall upon the person named from each generation. In return for this great sacrifice, a gift shall be bestowed, because a thing for a thing is always the proper way of things, and a balance will be struck. Peace, prosperity, safety, and security will be given to the people of Astanill. So long as the contract remains in place, and the line of House of Torverath remains unbroken, they will retain their rule and their people shall flourish."
Neese - Arlan paused a moment to let the young prince soak that in.
While he felt more confident knowing how to properly address the Fae, etiquette couldn't fully cover up the disquiet Lord Arlan's words caused. Val never remembered making any deals at all. Has the Fae approached him before, in disguise of a mortal? The young prince couldn't see through illusions or glamour, it was quite possible that he could have said some careless words in the wrong company and gotten himself embroiled in a bargain he's never even known he's struck.
Was it the truth behind his curse? It must have been connected to it, he's seen it respond to Lord Arlan. Was it a punishment for failing to hold up his end of the bargain? A profound feeling of gratitude washed over him. The Serenians warned him of how fickle and dangerous the Fae could be, unable to even conceive of mortal morality, but at least this one seemed to have enough to inform him of the truth.
This feeling didn't last long - it was soon washed away by dawning horror. His curse wasn't just his own problem, it was part of a greater whole that threatened his entire family. Unbidden, the hazy memories surfaced in his mind, stories of famously unfortunate ancestors. The sickly Lord Veleanor Torverath, who caught almost every disease known to the royal medics within his short lifetime. General Valharantha Torverath, who's gotten more of her own men killed than the enemy, her life ended by court martial. Were they previous victims of this arrangement?
He felt sick and for once he was certain it was not caused by his curse - at least not in the usual way. Was it some kind of a nightmare? It felt far too real, upturning his world and leaving him with no idea for what he should do next. It felt too big to wrap his head around, something that he would have to think over for a very long time.
But it didn't feel like he'd have any. The Fair Folk were never described as being particularly patient with mortals, and Val doubted that a lord of such power would waste time waiting on him. The scholars would want to know as much as possible, he should learn more about this... contract. "Who was it that struck this bargain with you?" he asked, his voice strangely wavering and uneven.
Neese smiled, something playful. "You do have a knowledge of your own heraldry and history, at least, I assume. Your should be able to name him yourself. Think back, young Prince," he said, "to the time when your people struggled most - and the boon that followed... Do you remember the name of the king that then reigned?"
Neese - Arlan shrugged. "The spell chooses its own victim from your line every generation," he continued with his previous explication, "and when I have the time I come and find them, and offer them a choice.
"This choice: You May be free of this spell, but if you choose to be, then the protection I afford your kingdom will be dissolved as well."
A name popped into his head immediately. King Vanhelin of the Screaming Seas, who quelled the clouds and the oceans around the Astanill isle, making it a place people could actually live in. Historians and bards alike theorized whether it was his magical power that subdued the storms, or whether he sought the root of the problem and addressed its source. Was it simpler than they suspected; had he just bargained away a life of each the following generations?
He clenched his fists at the back of his chair, his entire body tense as he struggled to remain composed. What should he do? If he asked the Fae to break the pact, he would be condemning his kingdom, the very land he had to protect. It was the duty of the royal family to make sacrifices for the sake of their people; that was all Vanhelin of the Screaming Seas has ever done. If he succumbed to his weakness, all of Astanill would suffer. What was one person's life compared to the welfare of his entire kingdom?
He couldn't allow himself to succumb to despair now. The Fae lord didn't look like the type to look kindly upon such unseemly displays. His mind latched onto some of his words, turning to curiosity as a defence mechanism. "You said that one chosen person only will be the target of said misfortune. Does it mean my curse- I mean, my part of the bargain - won't harm others, Lord Arlan?"
"Ahh... so you have guessed then?" Arlan said, recognizing recognition on the young price's face. "You people didn't really think Vanhelin really had the power to quiet the wind and sea, did you?" He chuckled.
Neese- Arlan nodded, There was a bit there though. "You might," but as a side effect of the spell, as it caused him some ill fortune, "but the spell will never target anyone but you, so long as you are the subject of it. It also only targets one person at a time, so another will not be chosen until after you die."
No wonder everyone looked at him with fear and disgust! Val has always believed that it was his curse that poisoned the others against him - and it was true, Lord Arlan confirmed it - but they actually had good reason to. He was more than a magnet of misfortune, he was also its harbinger and tool.
He couldn't keep with this line of thought. He reminded himself to make the best of this experience and try to learn as much as he could from the Fae. "Do you always offer every... participant of the bargain this choice?" he asked. It was quite fair of Lord Arlan to go out of his way to inform those unwillingly bound in his pact with Vanhelin, but it wasn't the only side of this story. The King of the Screaming Seas could just ask for the power to solve the immediate crisis, but he chose instead to ensure the prosperity of Astanill. Was the Fae's offer a part of the bargain? If it wasn't, then Lord Arlan must have been acting on his own, possibly even outside the boundaries of the pact. Was it possible that he could not break it on its own, that it had to come from the mortal?
While this way of thinking was easier for him, it would be dishonest to just fixate on it for his own benefit, and ignore other possibilities. If it was all a part of the bargain, then Vanhelin must have trusted his descendants that would be afflicted with paying the price to bear it. How could Val possibly disappoint him?
It was too great for him to wrestle with. He could no longer grasp for any questions to stave off the overwhelming despair. And he probably made the Fae wait far too long. "Must I... make my decision now?"
"Vanhelin was a man of great morals, and a willingness to self sacrifice," Arlan said. He had rather liked the man who he helped to make King. "And I like rules, and choices... You and your line are bound to he rules, and the rules are unbreakable, but part of the contract is you right to choose. Will you choose your own well-being or that of your people who you are meant to serve and protect, as any ruler is? Your own character and that of the other members of your line was a key factor in the protection I afford your people, young prince.
"I required of Vanhelin a sacrifice greater than for him to sacrifice of himself... Of him I required the sacrifice of one of his children, the first chosen by the spell was one of them." He knew which one, of course, but he Valerain to guess at who. "It also meant that, when I later came back to that child to offer them this same choice I offered you, that he had to trust in them to put their people before themselves."
Arlan was not here to keep secrets, he was here to shed light, to offer a choice, in accordance with the conditions of the contract he himself stipulated. "Vanhelin asked me for help, I agreed, but nothing in this world is free. He understood that."
As for the last question, Neese- Arlan shook his head in the negative. "At any time you may break the spell by simply stating that you wish to absolve your contract with me. You have to mean it though, for it to work. All parts of the contract will be dissolved immediately."
Was it a note of fondness that he heard in Fae's voice? Valerain was still educated as a prince until his curse was discovered and deemed too dangerous. He wouldn't say that his ability to read people was anything to boast about, or even that it could still serve him in a court setting. But it still seemed like Lord Arlan held the King of the Screaming Seas in high regard. Even when he earlier laughed at the possibility of him possessing such power alone, there was no note of scorn for the inferior mortal.
It was no wonder - Vanhelin Torverath was a nearly mythical figure to the people of Astanill. He was revered not only for his quelling of the storm, but also for the grandeur of his reign. He was the paragon all the following monarchs wished to emulate. If the island were to adopt a religious system of revering ancestral figures, he would be surely placed at the head of the pantheon.
Val wondered if what garnered such esteem in the eyes of Lord Arlan. Was the quality of this man such that it transcended the distinctions of understanding, fascinating mortals and Fae alike? Or was it something else that warranted such respect? The Fair Folk were by all accounts disposed to bargains - was it Vanhelin's willingness to barter away what others would balk at, the merit that they so admired? Val couldn't think of a society that would extol a man's inclination to trade the lives and happiness of his children, but such compunctions held no meaning to the Fae.
From what he's heard, the visit Lord Arlan was making was not an exception to the bargain, but rather a part of it. Valerain was but the most recently forged link in the chain of many. It begun with Vanhelin, then his child... Val felt like he should know the name of the first recipient of this curse, to honour the duty they've both been called to. Their name should have been remembered, but all that remained was a rumour. There were always some servants in the castle that liked whispering stories of the lost scions to Torverath bloodline, and the third child of the Founder himself was a particularly mysterious subject. A sibling to Queen Valharantha Torverath who inherited Vanhelin's throne, and Archmage Vennar Torverath who inherited his gift with magic. One that would inherit the burden of Astanill's prosperity.
What was the King of Screaming Seas thinking? Was he given the choice of whom to sacrifice to the curse? Was he forced to come to a decision alone, or had he discussed it with his children who would share his burden in the future? There was so much Val didn't know; his forebears chose to keep their fate a secret rather than openly speak of the bargain that was made. He knew that he was yet young and lacked true wisdom; he would accept their resolution until he honed his resolve to act.
But for now, he had to give his answer - but not to the duty he was given, not yet. He straightened up and gave a bow, head lowered and arms crossed over his chest. It was an old Astanill expression of not just respect, but gratitude. Perhaps Lord Arlan, having dealt with Torverath kings before, would be able to recognize it. "I must thank you for all that you've done, safeguarding my people's prosperity and welfare for the centuries past. Only a select few may know of your efforts, but it is not something we would ever forget. Alas, I fear at present I am ill suited to entertain a guest of such measure. I dare not presume that you would suffer mortals lightly, but if circumstances permit, I would gladly see you again and speak further."
Arlan smiled, pleased by the young Prince's response. There was wisdom there, in waiting before making a decision one way or the other. It was Valerain's tone of respect and appropriate awe and fear that really appealed to him.
"Of course," Neese snapped his fingers, and out of thin air appeared a hand mirror. He held it out to Valerain. "Just speak my name while you look into the mirror," he said, "and I will hear you. If it suits me, I will answer." Then, once the young Prince had the mirror in hand, Arlan took a step toward and then into it, and then threw it, and then he was gone.