Music: Tear The World Down

We Are The Fallen: 

RoH: A Bargain

When Remant left the palace, he had a signet ring and a scroll proclaiming him the new Viscount Durzen -- which would likely anger Sir Dominic Reville, but that was a problem he could address later. He had what he needed for tonight, and could visit the temple in the morning; it shouldn't take long to collect the letter of credit. 

He'd taken a room in a rather squalid inn that charged either by the hour or by the week, and then used a variety of Expulsion spells to make sure the room was fit for habitation. He'd leave them in place when he departed; anybody staying there henceforth could count on being cured of most diseases, rid of pests and parasites, and  incidentally free of hauntings and other visitations. The bed wasn't comfortable, but he'd spent enough time sleeping on a thin mat laid atop stone or worse that he barely noticed. He sealed the door, laid himself down, and fell into the contemplative replacement for sleep that he'd learned from his Santu. 

The night passed uneventfully, and he rose in the morning, dressed himself, and paid the innkeeper another week's rent. He left his pack behind, and went to visit the temple. 

The Church of Rilique was a sprawling stone complex of connected buildings, with a line of petitioners in front of the main door. As the god of money and success, Rilique had become very popular among those rebuilding -- or profiteering -- in the wake of the war. The success of its priesthood had grown in no small part from their role as bankers, creating reliable ways to store money and providers of loans and investments with reasonable risks. 

Remant had opened an account with them when the weight of his captured treasures had surpassed the capacity of his magical storage. He should have found better things to do with them, he thought, but by the end of the war he wasn't even sure what money was worth anymore. You couldn't eat it; you couldn't fight with it.  In the twelve years since, it had returned to being a way of exchanging things and measuring how much was available of what, but... No, he still didn't really understand it. 

That wouldn't keep him from using it.

He bypassed the line and came up the temple steps, only to be stopped at the entrance by a priest.  

  

Music: In Plain Sight

 Winter In Eden:

Valthor: Kiela in Action

Kiela waited with the rest of the boarding party at the top of the stone pillar. She knew the drill: the explosions would be the signal. Valthor and his companions would board the ship from below, using whatever holes the mines had made, and work to disable the forward cannons. She was part of the group that would be dropping onto the deck, and trying to do the same from above.

She was ready for this. The shivering in her body was just anticipation, definitely not fear. No, she was going to go down there and do her best to keep the damned elves away from her lover. The captain wanted this galleon, and she could see why: it was huge, well-armed, and would be a boon for the admiral as well as a great loss for the  Seravandrian command. 

She checked her cutlass, but it was still sheathed at her waist, right where she'd left it. The same for her daggers. Her bow was slung across her back, ready to use, and her armor was still in place. She resisted the urge to adjust it. She was ready, damn it. The galleon was coming closer...

That's a cursed lot of ship, she thought, and then the explosions began.

She moved before she could think about it. 

Valthor: Shipboard Drama

"I saw you talking to Vikke," Kiela said. "I don't need to worry, do I?"

Valthor shook his head. "Not at all," he said simply. "I caught her in a friendly mood, but I'm already with you and she's causing more than enough drama already. She's frustrated, and looking for ways to further advance herself -- personally, politically, I don't think she much cares how. It worries me, because it's likely putting the rest of the crew in an awkward position."

"You don't need to tell me," Kiela said. "We're all happier now that we got some loot from that sloop and that merchantman, so it's harder for her to stir up trouble, but..."

Outside of the small, hidden enclosure in the cargo bay, someone cleared their throat. "Are ye decent?"

Valthor actually looked down to check, but yes -- they were both still clothed. "We're fine," he said. 

"Siman, is that you?" asked Kiela. 

"Aye. Meself and Tamra." 

"Come on back, then," she said. 

Siman was a human, tall, lean, and dark-featured. He came around the boxes, and Tamra followed, holding his hand. She was a sea elf, like the captain, equally comfortable on land or water. She smiled at Kiela, nodded to Valthor. "Gossiping?" she asked. 

"After a fashion," Valthor admitted, nodding back to her and Siman.

"We were talking about Vikke," Kiela said quietly. 

"Stirring things up," Siman said, sounding vaguely disgusted. "Trouble between her and the captain, I reckon."

Valthor shook his head. "She's... impatient. Bored. Frustrated, and causing drama because of it."

Kiela nodded at that, and Tamra shook her head -- in disapproval, not disagreement. "She wouldn't be satisfied if she was Captain herself," the sea elf said. "Fame and fortune all the way. Wants the glory, but not the responsibility. She might get it, too."

Valthor nodded. "I counseled her to patience, but I doubt she'll listen."

"Ye tried, though," said Siman. "Good on ye for it."

"Listen," Kiela said. "I think we're absolutely killing the mood. Why don't we leave you two to find it again? I think Valthor and I have sorted out everything we needed to sort."

Valthor nodded. 

Siman frowned thoughtfully. "If you're sure. We didn't mean tae interrupt ye, either."

"It's fine," Kiela said firmly. "We first met in the baths, you know? Might be time for nice, hot water." 

RoH: Quid Pro Quo

"So," asked the king. "What sort of favor did you have in mind?" They were all four sitting at the table, and the servants -- who, in Remant's experience, always knew more than they should -- had appeared with two additional plates and goblets, the plates containing a spicy noodle dish and the goblets a very good white wine. 

Remant sipped the wine, then swallowed. "I need you to appoint me Viscount Durzen."

"Oh?" asked Dorrin. "I was aware of the Viscount's incomplete demise, and the struggle over his estate and title, but since nobody had brought it to my attention formally I was waiting to see how the family handled it."

"So far as I can tell, they made a few demands and then started hiring mercenaries to go and kill the dead man. That was where I got involved; I was looking for work."

Queen Lorraine frowned. "You know you needn't do that, yes? You could live here, and we would keep you..." 

"I know," Remant said gently. "It keeps me occupied, and my mind off my memories. In any case, I was able to meet with former Viscount -- without being killed -- and I noted several interesting things. First, the servants still worked the estate. Nobody had fled, nobody seemed concerned that their employer was no longer among the living. Second, Dirimant himself seemed primarily interested in being left alone to continue his work, pay his people, and generally go about his business. So instead of killing him, I decided to buy the estate from his daughter -- who, I'm told, wishes to leave the city for more favorable climes -- claim a wing for myself, and leave the rest of it to the former Viscount and his servants"

"Ah," said the king. "At which point you'd... what? Appoint Dirimant as your Steward, and leave him in charge of making decisions, watching the finances, and representing you at Court when you were traveling elsewhere?"

"Pretty much," Remant admitted. "The man clearly knows what he's doing, the servants adore him, and he's both magically adept and extremely knowledgeable. I'd hate to lose a resource like that."

"As would I," remarked Isabelle, studying Remant more closely. 

"...Very well," said King Dorrin, after exchanging a long look with his wife. "I have a few misgivings, but... as it happens, I have a favor I need to ask of you as well."

RoH: An Audience With The King

The dining room was small, meant for private meals, and tucked away well back within the palace. It contained only two occupants, sitting side by side at a table that likely wouldn't have seated more the four people comfortably. The painting on the far wall showed the former queen, Raquel the Just, who had courted scandal and very nearly been deposed for dissolving the high courts and turning even noble disputes over to the commons. 

"Your majesties?" asked Isabelle. "I beg your pardon, but I believe you know this man."

The King rose immediately. "Indeed I do." He came around the table, and the Queen was close behind him. "He was introduced to me as a young squire, and then returned to assist the kingdom with a... small problem, while you were still and apprentice."

Isabelle hesitated as the king came forward and hugged Remant; then the queen came forward and kissed him twice, once on each cheek. 

Remant flushed. The last few years had aged them both -- hair streaked with silver, lines around the eyes and at the corners of their mouths -- but Dorrin still looked to be in fighting trim, and Lorraine was still slender and beautiful. He was out of practice with any sort of intimacy these days, even between old friends. And those are the only kind I have left. 

"You haven't aged a bit," the king observed. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised by that."

Remant shrugged. "I don't know whether to call it a blessing or a curse." 

Queen Lorraine smiled at that. "Both those things can be true," she said gently. 

Remant found himself smiling -- genuinely smiling -- for the first time in a very long while. 

"Isabelle, it's up to you whether to stay or go. I assume you know who this is?"

"He is Remant, then," she said. "I didn't think he could be much of anyone else."

King Dorrin nodded. "Keep that to yourself, if you would." He turned back to Remant. "And you! What brings you to our table? I assume this isn't a social visit -- you were never much for those, even before you disappeared into the wilderness." 

"It should be," he admitted. "It should have been the first thing I did. But you're correct. I'm here because I need a favor."