A Scrollmaster

A Scrollmaster

         THALON walked into the Jewelled Flagon, the taverns doors gently swinging closed behind him. A familiar aroma of fresh food and drink wafted into his nostrils as he scanned the crowded room.

         The place had always seemed an oddity to Thalon. A hub of mercenaries and shady businessmen in the middle of paradise city. Amidst Thorvilles vision of the Empires absolute beauty, here stood a reminder that the outside world was not as perfect as the city lead you to believe.

         Frowning when he didn’t see the face he was looking for, Thalon sat down at his usual table to the side of a small, pale, white-haired man, who was dressed head to toe in what appeared to be dark grey wrappings. Thalon stretched in his chair and yawned -his sleek and seamless black plate armor adjusting to his movements- then slumped forward with one hand lazily propping his chin up. He watched the small man with a bored expression on his face.
         The mans bright red eyes darted across a floating blue screen. Upon this screen, strange symbols streaked across rapidly, heavily encrypted for his eyes only. In response to the hidden message, his fingers danced across the flat panel of a keyboard, which floated just above the tables surface.

         “Hey Gil,” said Thalon, “Have you seen Kongol?” The red eyes locked onto him for a moment, before returning to the screen.

         “I have not.” Gil's voice was smooth and crisp. In the following silence, Thalon opened his mouth to speak again, but Gil cut him off. “Last time I saw that man, he was blathering on about some new deal he’d made, how he was being paid a fortune to help a bunch of fools dig up some bones,” Gil snorted derisively, “He seemed overly proud of himself.”

         “So he just ran off?” Thalon exclaimed.

         “Indeed…Although I think he’ll lose that eagerness when those, ’harmless old bones,’ disapprove of his greed.” Thalon's brow slowly lowered as a waitress placed a mug of coffee at Gil's side.

         “So you’re saying I was outbid for his services? Hrmph, so much for friendship.”

         “A mercenaries number one priority is business, my dear Prince.” he took a long sip of his coffee, it smelled unbelievably bitter.

         “More likely he was bribed to avoid me.”

         “Don’t be so paranoid boy.” Gil said, raising the steaming mug in one hand as he typed away with the other. After glancing at Thalon's raised eyebrow, Gil chuckled and shook his head before taking another sip. The bitter aroma helped to clear Thalon's thoughts.
         After the massacre of Chudar, the capitol of an opposing Empire, Thalon had lost his stomach for war. The Thunder Empire sought to increase its power in order to combat their greatest threat, the Demon Wizard, Nemesis. Thalon was convinced that such a tremendous waste of lives, such needless violence, would not aid them in their cause.

         Gil had confirmed his suspicions.

         The diminutive man had seen a century come and go, and while he had not experienced the battles himself, he knew that it had always been a small group of people to take down previous immortals.

         It was not a problem that could be brute-forced.

         So Thalon had resigned from his position of General of the Thunder Army, with the goal of acquiring the knowledge and power needed to defeat Nemesis in single combat. He didn’t plan on travelling alone however. Kongol was a powerful and renowned warrior that Thalon had known for many years.

         Friendship alone was not enough to convince Kongol to fight for such a difficult task, so Thalon had commissioned his services for an outrageous sum withdrawn from the royal vaults.

         Someone had outbid the Prince of the most powerful Empire in the world.

         “I know my father,” Thalon said, “He never liked Kongol and he doesn’t want me out of his sight. He’ll set me up with someone he can control, probably a spy from Black Nimbus.” Gil merely smiled and drained his mug.

         “Up for a game of cards Thalon?”

         “Eh, no thanks, I think I have to get going,” he stood up from his chair, “You always win anyways.” Gil grinned.

         “You simply don’t try hard enough.”

         “I’ll see you around Gil.”

         “I’ll see you first.” Gil said with a wink.

         Thalon walked out the door.

         As he stepped out into the brightness of day, Thalon turned just in time to see a gigantic bird rounding the corner, its wide feet stepping gently on the smooth paved road, and a messenger sitting right behind its head atop its long neck.

         Thalon hardly thought his father needed a spy to know where he’d headed, but the timing was better than usual. Thalon stared up expectantly as the bird stalked towards him, and was baffled when the messenger rode right on past without a pause.

         Then he heard another bird cooing behind him and spun around.

         He recognized the voice as the messenger commanded the beast, and the face as the bird lowered its head and a man jumped down. He instantly kneeled as he dismounted.

         “Prince Thalon! Emperor Thundell has requested your presence immediately. Please, use my icharamdo, the Emperor says it’s very important.” Thalon nodded.

         “Stand,” the messenger shot to his feet. Thalon smiled, then handed the man a vibrantly coloured rectangle of a thin crystalline substance, “Go buy yourself a drink Jondar.”

         Jondar stared, momentarily stunned, then took the crystal paper reverently, bowing deeply.

         “Thank you sir.” he said nervously. Thalon walked past and sat down on the back of the icharamdos neck, taking hold of the curved horns.

         “Gyack!” he called, the bird raised its head in response, “Nyip!” the ‘ramdo loped forward and Thalon steered it around the corner and onto the main road.

         With a final, “Whoop!” they sped off towards the castle.

*          *          *

         AS THALON burst into the castles courtyard, numerous servants rushed to attend to him. Not hesitating in the least, he rode straight up to the large archway that marked the entrance to the Imperial Palace, the herd of servants following in his wake. He leapt down from his mount -fully a four meter drop- bending his knees neatly as he landed, then breaking into a jog as he entered the palace.

         “Lord Thalon!” A tall old man called to him, “My Prince, please allow me to escort you to your chambers, the Emperor has requested you in uniform.” Thalon scoffed as he motioned down the length of his full body armor.

         “This is my uniform.” He turned to continue.

         “Please Thalon, you must put on some proper clothes, you have a very important guest.”

         Thalon paused at that.

         “Is it an emissary? From Ix perhaps?” Thalon had recently extended an offering to the small state, where they would regain their independence. In exchanged, they would act as a liaison for the acquisition of goods from various nations who had boycotted trade with the Empire for one reason or another. The old man shook his head slowly.

         “Erm…No, nothing like that.” Thalon waved him away, but when the man rushed to catch him Thalon shoved a sheet of crystal paper into his hands, a manic grin on his face.

         “Here Yulius, buy yourself a drink.”

         “But, I’m not thirsty…” Yulius sighed helplessly as he watched Thalon stalk off, then followed at a respectable distance.

         Moments later, Thalon burst into the magnificent throne room. The huge chamber was composed of a dozen stone columns which formed a circle. Between each column was a large paneled window, and on the ceiling, twelve beams ran towards a blue crystalline sphere like the spokes of a wheel. The skylights between each beam illuminated the throne rooms most striking feature.

         The floor was covered in an intricate pattern woven out of various metals and gemstones. Streams of gold, silver, and the blue-black sheen of tantagium ran all about the bulk of the chamber, beautifully accented by emeralds, rubies, sapphires, and diamonds.

         The whole pattern concealed various deadly defence mechanisms, a spell that both father and son drew tremendous power from. In the center of it all, the ornate flooring rose up and wove together to from the throne.

         Here sat Emperor Thundell himself.

         He was dressed in a red military uniform decorated with gold, the standards of his rank sitting upon his left breast. Rows of black braided hair ran along his scalp and down to his shoulders in the customary fashion of a High Templar of Thalos. Piercing golden eyes -a trait which Thalon had not inherited- peered out from his dark face, flicking across the numerous blue screens that hovered around him.

         From this central hub of power, Thundell could oversee -and control- various Imperial operations across the continent.

         Thalon's armoured shoes clanked loudly against the metal flooring as he approached the throne. Stopping abruptly a few meters away from the Emperor, Thalon struck a pose, a single fist planted on his hip with his chin thrust upwards.

         “You summoned me, oh great Emperor Thundell?” he said jokingly, a wide grin on his face. The blue screens winked out of existence as Thundell turned his golden gaze towards Thalon, frowning.

         “I don’t recall summoning such a rude son, or one so poorly dressed,” he said, deep voice booming. He wrinkled his nose, “Also, you need a bath.”

         In an exaggerated gesture, Thalon placed a hand to his heart, a wounded expression on his face.

         “But father, I barely worked up a sweat,” as if to demonstrate his cleanliness, he raised one hand and put his nose to his armpit, sniffing contentedly, “As for my dress, I suppose I do look more handsome in a uniform -but not by much- and I prefer to present myself as a warrior who fights alongside his fellows, not some noble too high up to get mud on his boots. My soldiers respect me more for it, I think,” he frowned recalling his change of status, “Although, I guess that doesn’t matter that much anymore.”

         Thundell nodded.

         “I’ve been thinking about what you said, and I believe you made the right decision. Unlike a mortal man, Nemesis will not know defeat if we merely crush his army. As a Demon Wizard, he must leave this world in order to truly be defeated, and this requires a power different than the raw fury of the Thunder God,” Thundell allowed himself a small smile, “So I was pleasantly surprised when a certain someone showed up at our door, offering to help us with this very problem.”

         Considering Kongol's disappearance, Thalon was a little sceptical that someone had appeared out of the blue to aid them, but he didn’t raise the point just yet.

         “I assume that’s the guest I’ve heard about?”

         Thundell nodded in response.

         “You may enter.” Thundell thundered, calling to the open doorway.

         Hearing soft footsteps, Thalon quickly spun around, narrowing his eyes as he watched the dark figure approach. They had an incredible sense of presence, seeming to draw everything in towards them, demanding undivided attention.

         As the figure stepped forward, a slanted beam of light illuminated the details from head to toe.

         Black eyes peered out from underneath the rim of a wide brimmed white hat, those eyes intently locked on Thalon's own dark brown orbs. They wore a black trench coat with a popped collar, revealing a slender neck framed by straight black hair. The trench coat was fastened by a single button below the breast, opening up to reveal the frills of a white dress shirt beneath it, and similarly formal black pants below that. Both the pants and the coat cut off at roughly the same height, giving way to a pair of knee-high pointed leather boots, also black.

         Apparently not caring to deal with introductions, Thundell sat back in his throne as the newcomer halted their approach, standing an arms length away from Thalon. The Princes face remained placid as he spoke, his gaze never wavering as he looked down into those black eyes.

         “A woman, don’t I have enough of those already?”

         “Thalon!” The Emperor scolded disapprovingly. If the remark had bothered her at all she didn’t show it, merely smiling as she spoke.

         “My name,” she said pointedly, “Is Faeya Uul, I’ve come from the Guild.” Her voice bore a noticeable rasp as it resonated throughout the room, ringing assertively.

         It was then that Thalon noticed her offered hand.

         She didn’t bow, or show any reverence in the presence of an Emperor and his son, marking her not only as an outsider -but as a leader- unaccustomed to expressing subordination to anyone.

         Grinning fiercely, Thalon tore off his right gauntlet in one violent motion, sending it skidding across the floor. He swung his arm out wide then brought it in fast -a resounding clap as their hands collided- completing the gesture with a gentle squeeze and a slow shake.

         Faeya didn’t flinch in the slightest.

         “Pleased to meet you, Faeya,” Thalon exclaimed warmly, “I am Prince Thalon Thorell Thundell of the Thunder Empire, and I’m sure you’ve met my father, the Emperor. Is there a title you prefer to go by?” Thalon continued to grasp Faeya's hand as he spoke. It was soft but dry, her fair skin looking pale next to his dark hands. As she gently pulled herself out of his sweaty palm, Thalon thought he caught a glimpse of a symbol on the back of her hand, but it skittered out of the corner of his eye.

         “When I’m at work I am called, Mistress,” she finally replied, her voice maintaining its slight edge, “Mistress Uul; otherwise I prefer to use my first name only.”

         “Ah, so this is a personal trip then, Faeya?

         “It is,” after a brief pause, she opened her mouth to continue, but Thalon cut her off.

         “You said you were from the Guild, do you mean the Scrollmasters Guild?” without allowing his gaze to leave Faeya's black eyes, Thalon had managed to decipher Auzjere writing along the rim of her hat. The underside likely contained multiple contingency spells as well.

         “Yes, I’ve been here on business before, but we’re not allowed to set up locations within the Empire so I’ve travelled quite some distance.” She said. Thundell spoke up after his long silence.

         “All scrollmasters within the Thunder are either registered researchers, or soldiers in the Imperial Army,” he said resolutely, “It is in the best interests of the general populace.”

         “I myself have very little tolerance for rogue mages,” Faeya replied, her eyes still locked on Thalon, “Magic is extremely dangerous, and far too easily abused.”

         The Emperor seemed pleased with that answer, so Thalon spoke up.

         “That brings us to  the problem of Nemesis, the Demon Wizard.”

         Faeya nodded.

         “I’ve been tracking him for many years, hoping to find and kill him before things got too far,” her eyes narrowed, “But he always seemed to be two steps ahead, toying with me, leaving behind a trail of corpses. By the time I caught up to him, he had already become a Demon Wizard, and begun constructing his tower.”

         “I see,” Thalon said simply, “And what exactly drove you to do this, why were you pursuing him for so long?”

         “That man has killed a lot of people, and caused a great deal of harm in his wake. I’m sure that many would like to see him dead, just as much as I would,” when Thalon raised an eyebrow at the vague response, Faeya continued, “He personally attacked the Guild, slaughtering many of our scrollmasters and stealing some extremely valuable texts. I couldn’t let such a crime go unpunished.”

         Thalon's gauntleted left hand rose up to grasp his chin as he continued to stare down into Faeya's eyes. A single man strolling through what was likely a hub of several thousand powerful mages, bypassing multiple layers of defence, and walking out alive? All while he had still been a mortal.

         The answer seemed terribly incomplete, but Faeya made no move to elaborate so Thalon moved on.

         “I see, and you think that we could help each other to defeat Nemesis?” Thalon asked. He continued before Faeya could reply, “Besides your personal experience with Nemesis, what can you offer that will convince me to join you?”

         “I think I know more about Demon Wizards than anyone else who’d be willing to help you. I’ve studied countless texts detailing the abilities of immortals, and I’ve captured and interrogated entire cults of Dark Magi, gaining key insights towards the Book of Lysterith, a manual for the Dark Arts,” when Thalon continued to look indecisive, Faeya added in with certainty, “I know more about Nemesis himself than anyone else alive today.”

         Thalon's placid features suddenly broke into a grin.

         “Well, that sounds promising,” he exclaimed, before adding in almost mockingly, “With such vast knowledge on the subject, it’s a wonder that you need any help at all!”

         Faeya tried to match Thalon's grin, but it seemed forced.

         “Knowledge alone will not be enough to defeat Nemesis. It requires the power of an immortal, in order to combat an immortal,” a pause for emphasis, “A power that happens to be present in your very own Thunder God.”

         “Ah, so I’ll be the brawn, and you’ll be the brains, sort of deal.”

         Faeya rushed to clarify.

         “That’s not exactly w-”

         “That sounds acceptable.” Thalon interrupted.

         “Oh,” Faeya quickly regained balance, beaming triumphantly, “Excellent, I-”

         “Under one condition,” he said seriously, only the faintest hint of the former smile on his face, “I need to know that I can trust you, so I ask that you swear an oath.”

         Faeya finally blinked.

         “What kind of oath?” She seemed suddenly suspicious.

         “An oath of truth.” Thalon said simply.

         Behind him, Emperor Thundell rose from his throne slowly, sweeping his arms out wide in a grandiose gesture.

         “Here, within the realm of Zarbree, with Thalos as our witness,” his golden eyes flashed as they captured Faeya's attention, “We who carry the blood of Thalos within us, do not request such oaths lightly.”

         Thalon was mildly annoyed by his fathers interruption, but he didn’t say anything.

         It took Faeya noticeable effort to tear herself out of Thundell's gaze, swallowing past a sudden tightening in her throat.

         She was dealing with two very deadly men.

         “Alright, I’ll take your oath.” She said, struggling to sound as casual as possible.

         “Kneel,” Thalon commanded. All signs of play had left his voice and his features, Thalon looked as powerfully intense as his father.
Faeya only hesitated for a brief instant, dropping to one knee and sweeping the large hat off of her head. The motion fully revealing her shining, silken smooth shoulder-length black hair.

         Faeya looked upwards at Thalon expectantly. As the light caught her eyes, Thalon thought he could see the faintest hint of green beneath the black.

         Was she wearing coloured lenses? Interesting.

         “Mistress Faeya Uul,” Thalon began, “Do you swear in the name of Thalos, to serve his blood truthfully and honourably?”

         “I do so swear in Thalos name.” She said without hesitation.

         “Do you also swear, to serve me without deception or malice, and speak only truth in my presence?”

         “I swear.” Faeya said.

         “Then greet the Sword of Thunder before Thalos’ eyes.” Thalon extended his right arm towards her. As Faeya took Thalon's hand in her own, Thalon finally got a good look at the marking he had seen earlier.

         Tattooed on the back of Faeya's right hand was an instantly recognizable Auzjere character. Two perpendicular black lines moved up towards an intersect, the left-most line curled in a spiral -like a fist-, while the right-most line split into a crescent as if to surround it.
It was meant to depict the Hand of Fate on the left, moving towards its inevitable collision with the Hand of Destruction at the end of time. Its most basic meaning was, “death,” but it was more frequently used to depict the end of the universe.

         Thalon added it to his growing list of questions.

         As Faeya gently pressed her lips to his knuckles, Thalon though he saw a small, bitter smile on her face -more like a grimace- but it passed quickly.

         When she felt her hand being raised, Faeya hesitated for a moment, as if expecting something to happen, then rose to her feet and replaced the wide brimmed hat on her head.

         “Is that…Satisfactory?” She said smoothly, the steady confidence returning to her eyes, and a tight lipped smile on her face.

         “It will suffice for now.” As he said the words, Thalon noticed a subtle change in Faeya's eyes. She looked amused and arrogant, as if she’d beaten him at something.

         Thundell spoke up.

         “Well, now that that’s sorted out, I’d like to have a private word with Thalon, if you don’t mind.”

         “Certainly, Emperor Thundell,” Faeya said, “Allow me to excuse myself.” She stepped backwards then spun around neatly, shooting Thalon a triumphant look across her shoulder before marching off, her hands slipping into her coat pockets as she walked towards the doors.

         “Mistress Faeya Uul!” Thalon boomed.

         Hearing the sudden, unexpected ring of authority in his voice, Faeya halted abruptly as if she had run straight into a wall. She turned around, a grin quickly fading from her face.

         “Just one more thing,” Thalon continued, “How exactly do you know Nemesis so well?”

         A cloud of tension seemed to descend over the silence. Faeya was hesitating for longer than Thalon had anticipated.

         Perhaps she knew something of the nature of this room?

         “I…Met him a long time ago.” She finally replied.

         Dear Thalos. Thalon thought anxiously. Was that all she had to say? He widened his eyes in anticipation.

         As a sudden sense of danger closed in on her, Faeya glanced over Thalon's shoulder, straight into Emperor Thundell's shining golden eyes.

         Her heart skipped a beat.

         The Emperor no longer looked like a mortal man, instead, his gaze bored into her like that of a feral beast honing in on its prey. Faeya could feel cold sweat beading on her brow as she imagined the wrath of the Thunder God himself swirling within the depths of those shining eyes.

         Her gaze darted to the floor.

         “My family,” Faeya blurted out, “We were book keepers at the Temple of the Moon on Mount Altos. Before he began practicing the Dark Arts, Nemesis was an alchemist named Judou. He often visited the library to study, which is how I came to know him,” she took a breath to gather her thoughts, “But then, on the night of the Blood Moon, he decided to repay our hospitality by using my parents corpses for his experiments,” her voice quivered as if caught up in the memory, “Then he took what he pleased, burning down the library and leaving me for dead. I’ve wanted to kill him ever since.”

         To Thalon it seemed like half a story, but the tension slowly seeped out of the room.

         Thalos approved.

         “I-I’m sorry to hear that,” Thalon began, “And I know how you feel. That monster took my mother away from me, and now, he may have taken my sister as well.”

         Faeya remained silent, she looked pathetically tired.

         “Yulius!” Thalon called to the empty doorway. The old man seemed to step in out of thin air.

         “Yes, my Prince?”

         “Please escort Faeya to my chambers and ensure that she’s well taken care of.”

         “Certainly Prince Thalon,” Yulius turned to Faeya, “If you’d follow me, Miss Uul.”

         Faeya didn’t look back at Thalon or his father, but she managed to lift her gaze from the floor and straighten up as she followed Yulius out.
As the wooden double doors locked shut, Thundell slumped into his chair with a sigh. He lazily cast a glance at Thalon, who turned away and stared up at the sky.

         Barely audible footsteps as the pair descended down the stairs.

         When he was certain they were out of earshot, Thundell slapped a hand across his face, berating his son.

         “Damn it Thalon! Sometimes you take your games too far!”

         His voice reverberated around the room, eventually fading to silence.

         Thalon begun shaking. He made a rude noise, blowing air out between his lips, before breaking out helplessly into loud, infectious, laughter.

         A single golden eye peeked out from between his fingers as Thundell grinned.

         “I though we were going to have to sweep that womans ashes out the door.”

         “She’d obviously come prepared with a lie,” said Thalon, he sat down next to his fathers feet, leaning against the throne, “If you hadn’t given such obvious tells, she might’ve gone through with it.” Thundell raised an eyebrow as he let his hand drop to the arm of the throne.

         “I can’t tell if you’re thanking me or not.”

         Thalon suddenly shot to his feet. He slumped forward, hand on chin, as he paced back and forth.

         “Damn it Father!” He began, in mock imitation of Thundell, “Sometimes you take your games too far! Frightening young women? Bah, disgraceful!” Suddenly straightening up he added, “I think she peed a little.

         Thundell wrinkled his nose in response.

         “That’s disgusting Thalon.” But he chuckled.

         “I suppose I should thank you for intervening when you did,” Thalon finally answered, sitting back down again, “Travelling with that one will be…Interesting.”

         An impish smile crossed Thundell's face.

         “Do you find her attractive?”

         Thalon stared away for a moment before replying.

         “Not particularly.”

         “The way you were staring at her suggested otherwise.”

         Thalon shook his head.

         “Just another game,” he said. Thundell didn’t seem to believe it but Thalon moved on anyways, “So, how much did you pay Kongol to avoid me?”

         Thundell frowned.

         “I wouldn’t let that grubby barbarian touch a single one of my coins.” Thalon turned his head to look up into those golden eyes. Thundell wasn’t the type to tip toe around the truth, and especially since Thalon had already chosen to travel with Faeya, there would be no point in upholding such a deception.

         Had it really been a coincidence then?

         Thalon supposed that the leader of a Scrollmasters Guild might also have sufficient funds for a bribe.

         “Heh, I think that’s all I needed to know,” said Thalon as he rose to his feet, “If you don’t have any more reasons to keep me, I think I’ll go have a chat with my newest companion.” Thundell took a deep breath.

         “Thalon, you need to think ahead sometimes. You poke and prod at every situation like it’s a battlefield, looking for an opening to slip your
sword in, but always acting on impulse can have severe consequences.”

         “I wouldn’t have lived this long if I couldn’t think ahead on the battlefield,” Thalon shrugged, “And I couldn’t care less if she hates me now -we can sort that out later- what’s more important is that my new acquisition is trustworthy and capable,” he raised an eyebrow, “Do you disagree?”

         Thundell threw up his hands, dropping the point.

         “You really should consider a change of clothes.” Thundell said.

         “Not this again.”

         “I’m serious Thalon. Even outside of the Empire, that armor of yours is quite distinctive, you’d do well to avoid unneeded attention.”

         “I’ll definitely look into it.” Thalon said, pointedly grabbing up his right gauntlet before heading to the door.

         “Travel safely my son.”

         “I’ll keep in touch.” Thalon said, waving over his shoulder lazily.

         Thalon gently pushed his way through the large wooden double doors. As he turned around to close them, he caught a glimpse of his father returning to work, a dozen blue screens winking back into existence.

         The doors closed.

*          *          *

         HIS FOOTSTEPS thudding loudly on the stone flooring, Thalon rounded the corner just in time to see Yulius gently closing the bedroom door behind him. As he spotted Thalon, the old man raised a finger to his lips.

         Thalon didn’t slow his pace in the slightest, but his footsteps grew suddenly silent.

         “Is she asleep already?” Thalon asked.

         “Miss Faeya is resting,” Yulius replied quietly, “She’s had a long journey, and I’m afraid the recent -ordeal- has given her a bit of a headache.”

         “Hmph, she’d better not be this fragile when it’s time for battle.” Thalon said as he continued to move towards the door.

         Yulius shot him a stern glare.

         “Please Thalon, I know it’s not my place to judge, but you and your father may have been a little hard on her,” he said, “ Give her some time to rest.”

         Thalon placed a hand on Yulius’s shoulder, a gentle smile crossing his face as his gaze settled on the mans blue eyes.

         “Don’t worry Yulius, I’ll give her plenty of time to sleep later,” he said, “But right now, I need to sort a few things out.” Yulius gaze turned away as he spoke in a whisper.

         “As my lord wishes.” He stepped silently down the hall and out of sight.

         Thalon slowly turned the golden latch, the door creaking slightly as he opened and closed it, walking into the brightly lit, central chamber. Like the throne room, it was open to the sky, the back wall leading out onto a balcony, granting a magnificent view of the city below and the golden plains surrounding it. The floor was covered in a purple velvet carpet, decorative yellow lines weaving through it, heading straight away from the entrance before splitting off towards doors on either side of the room. The door on the right lead into a walk-in wardrobe, which also contained Thalon's weapons and armor. To the left, another door led to the bedroom.

         Thalon roughly wiped his shoes on a rug, noticing Faeya's pointed boots on a rack to the side, with her coat hung up above it. He considered changing into his uniform, but his sense of urgency denied him. Having already packed his things, Thalon had planned on simply picking up Kongol before heading out that day. Maybe he could still adhere to that schedule.

         The bedroom door swung open smoothly.

         Like the entrance room, it was open to the light on the far wall and the ceiling. To one side there was a desk and some bookshelves, with a  dark red four-poster bed stretching out from right-hand wall. He closed the door behind him -paused in order to pick up the sound of Faeya's even breathing- then walked around to the far side of the bed and pulled open the curtains. Eyes closed and mouth slightly opened, she laid on her back, sprawled amidst the soft sheets.

         As the light hit her face, Faeya let out a groan.

         “How the hell do you sleep with so many damn windows?” The sharpness of their previous conversation having left her voice, she sounded relaxed -although a bit agitated-. When Thalon remained silent, Faeya opened her eyes, taking in the grim look on his face.

         He was staring directly at her chest.

         Where Faeya had undone the top buttons of her shirt, another tattoo could be seen, clearly drawn in bold black lines.

         The Eye of Chaos.

         As Faeya casually covered herself, Thalon raised his gaze towards her face. Her eyes were slightly glazed, and there was sweat on her brow as if she was suffering a fever.

         “What are those symbols for?” It was more of a demand than a question.

         Faeya propped herself up on her elbows before replying.

         “It’s not always a good idea to be pulling scrolls out in the middle of a fight,” she said casually, “However, magical ink can be applied to living flesh as well. It’s a common practice amongst battlemages.”

         So she was not only knowledgeable, but deadly in combat as well.

         “Aren’t those tattoos typically writing though? Spells?”

         “Symbols can be spells too.” Faeya said smiling.

         Her tone annoyed him, she was making light of the situation, mocking his intelligence and dodging the question.

         Naturally, he prodded.

         “Spells require energy to be manipulated repeatedly, a single symbol is not capable of doing that.”

         “Eh? I have them all over.” To demonstrate, she turned towards him, sitting up as she rolled up one sleeve and stretched out her legs.

         Thalon read the symbols slowly.

         Was this supposed to reassure him? He felt only growing dread.

         On the back of her left hand: Blood. Running up her arms: Hatred, Devour, Sacrifice, Destroy. On her feet: Otherworld. Legs: Darkness, Light, The Elements. Those didn’t have the sinister feeling of the other symbols, but they quickly faded away into the recurring motifs of blood and death, this time interwoven with lines of flowing script that Thalon couldn’t decipher.

         Convinced that Thalon had gotten a good look, Faeya flopped backwards as if to return to her slumber. In her delirium it took Faeya a few moments before her eyes shot open in realization and she sat back up.

         “Wait, you can read those?”

         “Of course,” Thalon said simply, “It was necessary, powerful spells are often written in the Elementals language.”

         “Ah, that reminds me,” she seemed to have recovered her composure quickly, “Am I going to be struck down by a bolt of lightning the moment I say something untruthful?”

         He could feel a sense of paranoia welling up inside of him as he considered those symbols, but Thalon decided to answer Faeya's question first.

         “No, what I did to you was more of a test than a true geass. Anything permanent would’ve required me to draw your blood.” When Faeya let out a sigh of relief, Thalon continued quickly, “That doesn’t mean I’ll let you get away with lying to my face though. Your little headache was just a warning, I expect the full story from you…eventually.”

         “That’s good to hear.. sort of.” Faeya flopped back down.

         “We need to start our journey today.” Thalon said seriously.

         Her eyes closed, Faeya smirked.

         “Where were you planning on heading?”

         “West.” Thalon replied without hesitation.

         Faeya snorted.

         “Oh my, that sounds promising,” She waved her hand around lazily as she talked, “So you were going to wander around aimlessly until you ran into… What? Some sort of super weapon that would fall out of the stars and let you slay all who oppose you?” She opened her eyes and turned towards Thalon, that edge of arrogance returning to her voice, “I actually know where we need to go. So I think you can afford to wait another day.”

         “Why not today?” Thalon realized that the question made him sound more defeated than commanding, despite the assertive ring in his voice.

         “Just admit it, you’d be lost without me,” she frowned, “And it feels like my head’s going to explode.”

         “I’ll wait until you actually do something before I start showering you with gratitude,” Thalon said, his voice and features remaining totally deadpan. Before Faeya could turn away, Thalon continued, “There’s still something that’s bothering me though,” Faeya carefully arched an eyebrow, “After the Fire Empire surrendered, a certain Commander Brix gave the order that lead to the loss of thousands of innocent lives in the city of Chudar, claiming that it was a direct command from my father,” Thalon sighed, “After I slid the bastards corpse off my sword, I discovered that his brand had been tampered with-”

         “Brand?”

         “The brand on his back, all soldiers have it in order to ensure that they remain loyal to the Empire. Anyways, it turns out that someone had tattooed the skin on his back, and done several bone carvings on the back of his skull,” Thalon's expression grew increasingly grim, “He was completely under the control of Nemesis.”

         “Ah, so you have to be extra cautious now?”

         “Yes, as a Demon Wizard, Nemesis is a master of illusion, he could be anywhere at any time, and he can change his form at will, thwarting regular methods of magical detection,” said Thalon, “Now we know that he can also use the Dark Arts to enslave whoever he pleases. There could be dozens of other traitors across the Empire and we wouldn’t know a thing,” he narrowed his eyes, “Unless of course, we see that their brand has been tampered with.”

         “Oh, really?” Faeya smiled as if she knew something Thalon didn’t.

         Thalon ignored her comment and moved on.

         “That’s why I need you to show me the rest of those symbols.” He said.

         “Huh?”

         “Undress.” He was deathly serious.

         “Fuck off.” As Faeya turned her back to him -rolling onto her side- Thalon could not detect the faintest hint of malice in her voice. Somehow her casual deflection only served to infuriate him even more.

         “Excuse me?” As often as he enjoyed playing with peoples emotions, forcing them to react, he was still the son of an emperor.

         He would not accept such blatant flippancy.

         Eyes wide in rage, Thalon's black gauntleted hand reached out towards Faeya's shoulder, to grab her and force her to obey him.

         A hand shot up instantly, grasping Thalon's wrist in a grip of steel, the mark of death clear against its fair skin.

         Thalon froze.

         He could see blue veins popping out on Faeya's hand. Even through the tantagium plating of his armor, Thalon could feel that deadly grip acutely. It was painful.

         “You don’t seem to understand, so let me tell you a little something about Demon Wizards,” Faeya's voice was as cold as ice, and as sharp as a blade, “Although they may possess an immortal body, that body is controlled by the mortal soul of the Dark Magi who inhabits it. They are not gods, their power is limited to that of a mortal man, including their mastery of the Dark Arts,” she took a deep breath before continuing, “So- anything that would destroy a mortal soul, would harm a Demon Wizard. And anything that would dispel or detect the magic of a Dark Magi, would dispel or detect the magic of a Demon Wizard as well.”

         She finally let go of his wrist, and Thalon drew back slowly.

         Faeya rolled over and looked at Thalon. Her anger was concealed behind her calm expression as she spoke.

         “If Thalos himself really sat in that throne, Nemesis would be destroyed the instant he entered that place. The fact that I walked in and out of that room unharmed should be proof enough that I’m not one of his pawns,” Faeya's face finally cracked into a manic grin that did nothing to conceal her outrage, “Of course you had to be sure, so you did your little test -you toyed with my life- and lo and behold, I’m still alive.”

         Thalon couldn’t believe his own actions, looking away, unable to meet her gaze.

         What was this feeling? Was this guilt?

         Faeya wasn’t quite finished.

         “I didn’t expect us to suddenly become best buddies after you’d satisfied your suspicion -I did get the impression that you’re a stuck-up jackass after all- but this is fucking ridiculous.”

         What the hell am I doing? Thalon thought. Do I really want to start a fight with her?

         He didn’t know how to react. If anyone had talked to him like that before today -especially an outsider- he would’ve struck them dead without a second thought, but it felt as if Faeya's words had snatched away all of his pride, his confidence, and his fury, in one cold breeze.

         He felt hollow.

         He realized -suddenly- that he respected this woman.

         Throughout his life, Thalon had obeyed his advisors and his instructors because it was beneficial to him. The only people he had truly respected were his own family, who he considered his superiors. Everyone else was beneath him, using the backs of his followers as stepping stones, and crushing the skulls of his enemies beneath his feet as he thundered ever onwards. He did not tolerate weaklings obscuring the shining vision of his goal, glory for the Empire. An Empire that would someday belong to him.

         He felt that Faeya would understand such a goal, that she was just as fiercely driven by her own ambitions. Like meeting an enemy commander on the battlefield, her display of force and her unwavering confidence had impressed him.

         A mental shrug.

         Thalon supposed that for now, he could at least consider Faeya his equal.

         When Thalon finally lifted his gaze from it’s spot on the carpet, Faeya was sitting on the edge of the bed, facing him. Her head was hung and she had one hand to her face, but the angle and her black hair made it unclear what she was doing. His eyes followed Faeya's hand as it dropped gently onto her lap, two curved eye-lenses balanced on her fingertips. When she raised her head to look at him, the sun lit up her eyes and Thalon felt himself freeze for the second time in the past few minutes, his breath catching in his throat.

         They really were green, unusually so.

         They were bright and pure, and seemed to sparkle like a finely cut jewel. He wondered if they were real, the way they shone gave them the look of magical replacements. No, he thought, they were definitely organic.

         “I’m an Adept,” Faeya explained softly, a slight smile on her face, “You were curious, weren’t you?”

         Thalon nodded, still captivated by those sparkling eyes.

         After another silent moment, Faeya replaced the lenses in her eyes, restoring them to their previous -almost totally opaque- blackness.

         “They draw too much attention, and I think black suits me better anyways.”

         “What about your hair?” Thalon asked tentatively, “Is it white?”

         Faeya shook her head slowly.

         “Red.”

         “I’d like to see that someday.” Thalon said. As the words left his mouth, he felt embarrassed for some reason, “And I’d like to apologize for how I’ve treated you. I’ve been overly paranoid since the incident at Chudar, and I let that dictate my actions. I’m sorry, Faeya.”

         She smiled triumphantly in response.

         “I’ll take my leave then; we’ll begin our journey tomorrow.” Not waiting for a reply, he closed the curtains on Faeya's face, draping the red cloth around her front so that only her shins could be seen poking out the bottom. Thalon walked towards the door, grinning as he heard her fumbling with the sheets, then walked out and closed the door gently behind him.

         He stood there for a moment, his back against the door, before walking out onto the balcony. There, he seated himself on a small metal chair, overlooking the city.

         Faeya.

         It occurred to Thalon that she may have manipulated him, just as he had tried to manipulate her, but that thought only served to further impress him. She’d swept aside his fury, humbled him, won his respect, and endeared herself to him in mere moments.

         He smiled as he looked out over the city.

         “Interesting indeed.”