Men who play games of war and soldiers born from circumstance...
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Scroll 02 : 03
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Io’fayl looks out at the kingdom far below as the suns begin to set, washing the red marble terrace in shades of orange and gold. This is her kingdom. It had taken many long years to secure the hundreds of miles of nothingness that surrounds her. So much fighting to claim so little and so much more just to maintain it. A small sigh leaves her lips as she turns around, smirking slightly as the sight of her unconscious ward comes into view, still sleeping on a large pillow where her white haired Captain had left him earlier. His mask is intact, the weak points finally fixed thanks to both her right hand man and her Mastersmith. Had he been allowed to try for much longer, Kso'ppghiel would have been able to destroy it beyond repair. That item was not an easy one to create and she did not want to go through the resources to attain it again as she’s always found those resources rather… distasteful. She does applaud his stubborn determination, however. Bare feet pad quietly across smooth marble, each step carrying Io’fayl towards her Harbinger before she settles in close beside him. A quiet stream of words leaves her lips, the spell allowing her to remove the mask and place it to the side, the many charms and enchanted items clanking against each other as she does so. Clawed fingers carefully separate blood stained white-blonde locks to brush them away and reveal the man’s face before she frowns at the way he had simply been thrown a little haphazardly down where he lay. Taking a moment to adjust him in the slightest, she resumes looking over every feature of the one she holds. Kso'ppghiel. This creature is beautiful to her, a very raw, unrefined beauty. From the moment she knew he was Mithghiiel’s son, she knew he had to be hers. No other being has done to her what Mithghiiel has in both mind and body. She smirks. No other being has been as insubordinate as his son. They are the only to deny her in a very long line of Harbingers. No one denies her. Rusted orange eyes follow the lines of his face and she smiles. He is only ever at peace when consciousness is forcefully taken from him and it makes her wonder if he ever truly has been at peace at all. The creature has no attachments or commitments save his weapons and the drive he has to use them, there is nothing in the entire of Ish’talla that binds him. Fingertips dance slowly over full lips, bloodied and broken from his struggles, warm breath washing over her skin as he exhales slowly. She wants every part of him. He reminds her so much of his father, and even the way she herself was in war. Nothing could stop her as she plowed through other armies with her own, fronting every battle personally. She remembers the feeling and she knows exactly why Kso'ppghiel will never rest until he is amongst that again. But she does not care. That raw life is what she wants, and she will feed into it until the very day he breaks. Then she will mold him into exactly what he should be; a Harbinger of Death, a rabid dog on a short leash, all of which he is now only truly at her command. He will lie at her feet; he will give his life, body and soul to her, she will make sure of this. She will posses him deeper than any that has come before him. She will take from him what Mithghiiel would never give.
Sav’real sips on his tea as others of his kind work dutifully copying and recopying books or scrolls. He is rather happy he doesn’t have to be bothered with transcribing anymore as it cramped his fingers like nothing else could. Finding out information is much more fun and it allows him to leave the fortress; something of which he needs to do from time to time, given how life within his Queen’s walls can be. He still comes down to the libraries though. He finds it to be much more peaceful around his own kind than it could ever be around any of those dirty soldiers. The heavy door at the library’s entrance swings open, sending all scribes within skittering in a frantic attempt to appear as if they are actually working when the silhouette of a guard appears. Sav’real doesn’t bother moving from his leisurely tea drinking though. He can’t get in trouble when he’s not supposed to be working anyway. Light footsteps carry the white haired Captain to the small creature’s side and Sav’real stops himself in mid-sip when he realizes who the guard actually is. Serpentine blue eyes slide up to meet Bal’thial’s mismatched gaze, the smile he offers not returned as a look of seriousness paints the tall man’s expression. “We must talk.” He says quietly, “Somewhere we will not be heard.” Sav’real blinks in slight confusion. “Uhhh, sure.” He gets up and quickly follows the Captain out of the library, glancing between the worried looks planted in serpentine eyes all around him as they leave. He shares their worry and he certainly hopes it’s just a talk. Maybe their Queen has caught onto them… No, he’d be dead if that was the case, and not by Bal’thial’s hand but by that of her own. Talons click on the marble as they descend several flights of stairs, Sav’real taking the white haired man to his own room in a section of the fortress reserved solely for his kind. The rest are all working and he is the only one currently present without scribe duty, the others more than a day’s travel away. Bal’thial ducks as the hallways become shorter and narrower, tiny doors lining each side. They walk towards the end of the hall to find a slightly larger, more decorated door. Sav’real says a small spell to unlock it and lets the Captain inside, suddenly aware of how messy his room is. The small creature rushes around, trying the best he can to pick up most of the books and teacups that lay strewn across the floor and directing Bal’thial to a mostly untouched corner with large silk pillows. Shaking his head in slight amusement at the Intelligence Gatherer’s fussing, the tall Captain seats himself down and crosses his legs to his front. “Close it.” He says, motioning towards the opened door. Sav’real nods hastily, dropping the books and trinkets held currently in his hands before moving to the doorway and sliding it shut. “He is that Mithghiiel’s son, correct?” Bal’thial starts quietly even before the small feathered creature has fully turned around. Sav’eal nods reluctantly, resetting the spell lock to his door before turning to face the Captain. “I knew you were smart enough to figure it out. He is Mithghiiel’s son and our Queen knows it. He’s practically identical except for the hair. Spitting image. Which would explain why she’s been so… emotional around him.” Sav’real shakes his head as he walks over to a pillow near Bal’thial’s feet and plops himself down with a sigh. “That’s not why she wanted him at first though, she did truly just hear of an impressive warrior whose skills fit the bill for a new Harbinger, but when I was doing my digging about him, I had to go way back to find out anything. He’s been on his own for the past ten years and he doesn’t talk to anyone.” “Somehow, Mithghiiel ended up in a village on the Eastern Territory, got married, had kids, all that. His wife died in childbirth with Kso’ppghiel’s sister when he was about eleven. Mithghiiel raised them both, apparently taught Kso’ppghiel how to fight. Even had a sword made for him. Our Queen, in one of her village plundering and dismantling raids, went to his village when he was about seventeen. The details are muddy but Mithghiiel got taken down as well as his sister, Kso’ppghiel went ballistic, killed every soldier he could find. I don’t blame the guy.” Sav’real shrugs. “It is understandable…” Bal’thial nods as he uncrosses his legs, shifting his knee up in order to drape an arm across it. Leaning forward to touch clawed fingers to his lips, the Captain’s voice goes distant for the briefest of moments. “It is never easy to lose one’s family… no matter the circumstances…” mismatched eyes slide over to meet serpentine blue. “If her new Harbinger were to ever find she was responsible for their deaths, I do not think even that mask could hold him.” He smirks softly. “So he carries swords given to him by his dead father… I suppose it would explain why he is so attached to them. But Queen Io’fayl… does she truly think he will replace the one that got away? Father or son, one is not automatically like the other…” Sav’real’s expression turns somewhat sad and he shakes his head just a little. “I’m not sure her intent is to replace, more exact revenge for what Mithghiiel did to her. Whether she is seeing him as Mithghiiel or not, I don’t know. But if she is, I’m not sure how long he’ll last on that alone. As far as I’m aware, he doesn’t know it was our Queen who ordered his town to be destroyed. When I was learning about him, her name never came up and he’s never reacted to it when it was mentioned by others. The kid’s so self destructive, I think he’d probably kill himself trying to get at her if he ever found out. I guess Mithghiiel never talked about her, which makes me wonder what he does know about his father’s past. He served under Io’fayl for almost twenty years. When he was killed I’m going to guess he was not even one hundred.” The tall Captain absently nods his head, the surprise in knowing the length of time it had taken for the Queen’s former Harbinger to capture her heart quickly lost as his thoughts wander back to the man’s son. Self destructive would be an understatement as he’s seemed to care so little for anything save those two swords and knowing that the loss of his loved ones was the catalyst for his spiral downwards strikes Bal’thial a little too close to home. “It would be shameful…” he sighs as he taps his claws to his lips. “For Kso’ppghiel’s life to be wasted as it most likely will be in this manner. He has… much potential in him, and I would have preferred to meet him in battle on more equal terms…” mismatched eyes slide over to meet Sav’real’s gaze. “I suppose I will never get the opportunity so long as he remains our Queen’s lapdog, hm?” The small creature shakes his head and frowns. “You should probably get any and all thoughts about Kso’ppghiel in any form beyond him being her lapdog out of your head, even simple friendship. She wants her Harbingers loyal to no one but her and no one loyal to them. Our Queen has taken extreme measures over the years to make it this way.” Sav’real sighs. “It is a damn shame, I bet he’d be as good a person as his father was and seeing you finally get someone who could match you in fighting is something I’d like to witness someday. He’s really undisciplined, I’m sure what Mithghiiel’s taught him over the years has taken a background to just surviving. If you could get him to at least pretend to be more loyal to her, she might even let you train him as long as you rough him up and treat him like an animal or something. She kinda likes the highly disciplined warrior thing.” “I had not noticed.” Bal’thial laughs softly, understanding all too well that his own place was won simply by the level of skill he’d acquired over the years he’d been training before his expression straightens soon after. “I have been attempting, in subtle ways to make him understand that it would be in his best interest to at least attempt to accept his role outwardly… even if his feelings are completely opposite inside, but…” he smirks. “He has of yet, to listen to me and the results of his stubbornness continue to earn him a tighter pull on the choke hold she has,” Pulling his fingers away from his mouth, the white haired man sits back as far as the small room will allow. “-As well as force my hand to do what is expected in turn. Perhaps eventually he will come to understand, as I would much rather be one to train him than be the one dumping his corpse over the edge of her fortress like I have so many before.” Blue and green eyes shift over to meet Sav’real’s gaze when Bal’thial catches the look forming on his face. “Do not worry yourself my friend, as I stated before, my interest in him only goes as far as combat… I value my life far too much to risk it for the sake of her chosen pets.” “Uh huh…” Sav’real smirks as he crosses his arms over his chest. “I’ve known you how long here? You’ve already risked and put yourself out more in the past few weeks than I have ever seen. You’ve questioned things that aren’t supposed to be questioned, you’ve sought out information that’s forbidden on your own merit. What part of this is supposed to make me think all your care about is combat? There’s something about him that’s caught your attention because things don’t catch your attention like that. Tir’snin didn’t even make you blink and he was a very good fighter when he started out. You may be blind, but I’m not. Denial’s probably the safer route though, gets you less dead in the end if you’re not attempting to make nice with the Queen’s prized possession.” “Tir’snin was a weak hearted fool, lost to our Mistress’s wiles along with everyone else and holding strengths that barely lived up to the respect his position commands. There was nothing in him to notice, even in death.” Bal’thial smirks. “And as for the other, the only thing that has caught my attention was witnessing a relatively untrained fighter take down five men trained by my own hand in less than a minute’s time. The level of skill required for that is noteworthy but I am not fool enough to try and cozy up to forbidden fruit in order to get another chance to see him in action.” Shaking his head, the tall Captain slides his leg down before pushing himself up onto his feet, his towering frame hunched down beneath the lowered ceiling above. “I simply feel it will be a shame to see our Queen dispose of him before he has had time to hone those skills...” Moving towards the doorway, the white haired man pauses momentarily to wait for Sav’real to unlock the spell keeping it secured, his mismatched gaze sliding back to meet the one behind. “…believe what you will, but there is nothing more to it than that.” “Liar.” Sav’real smirks to himself after the door is closed.
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