Shadows and Fire

[Navarre]

Spring, 122PW

Navarre lay motionless on her fainting couch, her cheek resting against her knuckles. Her eyes lingered on the candles on the table across from her, watching as the wax melted beneath the flames. The fire licked at the shadows and coated the study with a dim glow. Watching the flames struggle against the darkness captivated her, but she couldn't say why. No matter how strong they burned, they would inevitably flicker out into the darkness, almost as though they had never been lit at all. Their time was limited, and yet they blazed on.

Mortals were very much the same: in time, both the great and the small would all fall into oblivion. She, who had conquered death itself, had the privilege of watching them fade away, forever removed from their plight. At best, they were a mere curiosity. Soon, she would be able to snuff them out as she saw fit.

Sighing, Navarre sat up and ran a hand through her hair. She had been lounging in her study since the morning. Her recent transfer had robbed her of her strength, so she'd been confined to her bedroom for most of the week, attended by her servants. As much as she enjoyed being young again, she could do without having to attune herself to her new vessel. The process left her eyesight sensitive as well, so she had her servants close the drapes and dim the lights. The last thing she wanted was to make her spiritual hangover any worse.

Navarre rose from her couch and headed over to her desk. The portrait of her host's father still hung above it, but that would change soon enough. She sat down and turned on the lamp on her desk, brightening the room. Although the light irritated her, she wanted her guest to be able to see her when she arrived.

After noticing her propaganda, the government arranged a meeting between her and one of its representatives -- Ryxa Liorysei, an esteemed Battlemage. Apparently, this woman had quite a reputation for her aggressiveness, which could make her a useful ally in the future. In fact, the same could be said for most Battlemages. If she wanted her agenda to take hold, she needed supporters who wouldn't have qualms over pulling Marn's weeds, and the Battlemages knew little mercy. She couldn't afford to make enemies of them.

Navarre reached for a bottle of wine and poured herself a drink. her eyes resting on the opened door. Her servants had been instructed to show Ryxa to the study upon her arrival. If all went well, this would be her first step toward a strong connection with the government -- but that depended on how well she played her part today.

[Blood Ravenous]

Ryxa Liorysei did not appreciate being sent on insignificant missions like chatting up nobles. She was restless these days, and having to do the Judges’ menial tasks rather than torturing the dangerous magic users they had caught recently was just adding fuel to the agitated fire. As a battlemage, she was used to having to hunt down, fight, or interrogate mages, not butter nobles up so the Judges can use them for their own ends.

She sighed as she saw the mansion looming up ahead of her. It wasn’t far from her house so she had walked--which she enjoyed doing, since she got to watch how people gave her a wide berth. Their fear gave her renewed energy. She would make this quick, and then she could get back to leisure activities. Such as the merchant currently tied up and unconscious in her house’s furnace room.

The battlemage walked through the gates toward the front door. As she approached it, the entrance was quickly opened and she strode inside without missing a step. Once she reached a few feet in, she paused and, looking bored, glanced around at her new surroundings.

The butler knew why she was there and silently gestured her to follow. Appearing to ignore him--though in fact she had noticed his inability to speak from fear, and was quite proud of this fact--she still followed him through the house. It was a lavish home, too lavish for what Ryxa was used to. Having grown up in Shim, her own place still continued to impress her. Lord Vesurian's estate did more than impress, it shamed her, especially in artwork, which decorated the halls and rooms she caught glimpses of.

Feeling out of place and annoyed, Ryxa reached the study and was shown inside. She took it upon herself to close the door, at the same time staring at the room’s inhabitant. The beautiful elf sat at her desk, drinking wine. Her apparent youth surprised Ryxa; the woman on the posters looked more like someone who could gain the Judges’ attention. In person she appeared much weaker, more like the sheltered girl that most noble's daughters were. At the same time, she looked sick or tired to Ryxa’s sharp eye, though it was masked well beneath her youthful face.

Looking as wary as she felt, Ryxa said, “Lovely home you have.” The way she said it made it sound like it could have been a threat and not simple small talk; she didn’t have a pleasant facade to present someone like Navarre.

Ignoring whatever trivialities the noblewoman wanted to burden her with, Ryxa took a folded-up pamphlet from her belt and opened it. She held it up for the elf to see while taking a few steps further into the room. Her red-gloved fingers covered up the title, but it would be recognizable to its author. “This is a very impressive pamphlet, Lady Isyrion,” she stated coldly. She turned it around and looked at it a moment without reading it, and smirked. “Oh, excuse me, it’s Lady Navarre now.” She looked back at Navarre and it was obvious she did not care how rude she was being.

[Navarre]

Navarre studied her guest as she entered, casually running a finger along the rim of her wine glass. It seemed the rumors were true: Ryxa gave the impression that she was not one to be crossed, but, then again, the same could be said for most of her kind. Still, she knew to watch her tongue around this woman, especially since she needed the government's support. But that didn't mean she couldn't let Ryxa know that she too was not to be underestimated. A lioness respects her brethren, but she also expects it in return.

"Good afternoon, Battlemage Liorysei. I'm pleased that you approve of my work," she said as she refilled her glass, chuckling sultrily "It pains me that it's even necessary to raise awareness on this issue, but sheep don't move without a little prodding. The malcontents among the lower class must be reminded that insubordination will not be tolerated, lest they become enamored with the insurrection."

Prodding helped motivate the crowds, yes, but she needed something more substantial to sustain the fervor. Sensationalist stories and fraudulent studies could only do so much. Once she started putting faces in the propaganda, the battlemages could start putting them on pikes. Although they were free to eliminate rebels, their targets rarely carried city-wide hatred. Nothing whipped up a crowd more than an enemy's rotting head on display. And hopefully they would line Marn's streets soon enough.

Navarre smiled. "Of course, we both know that non-sanctioned propaganda can sometimes hurt the cause it supports, no matter how well-intentioned it might be. As you might have guessed from my pamphlet, I show no sympathy toward those who oppose the common good. But I am aware that even I might stray from the straight and narrow, so I welcome any suggestions or changes that you might have any mind. After all, I am the government's ever-faithful servant. Care for a drink, by the way?"

[Blood Ravenous]

Ryxa was amused by what came out of this girl’s mouth. Though, truth be told, she was not that much younger than Ryxa, Ryxa just saw a pampered girl--but her words and the way she spoke belied her ignorant appearance. Smirking, the battlemage folded up the pamphlet and tucked it back into her belt. There was silence for a moment, as she was caught off guard. Normally that would make her angry, but the subject matter negated that. “I think we all agree on that point,” she finally responded. Her tone had a bit more fire in it now, revealing her excitement.

In Navarre she saw not a kindred spirit but at least someone who felt the way she felt. Everyone seemed so stupid, cowering in the face of authority and doing as they were told. If the insurrectionists gained any authority, people would follow them blindly; to manipulate the masses to behave, they needed to show greater power. However, so far the government had not made any move to do so.

“This’s a good beginning,” she continued, referring to the pamphlet. “Of course, it’s not just me who thinks that.” She raised her eyebrows meaningfully. She wasn’t going to say directly that the judges approved, but if Navarre was as savvy a person as she seemed, she didn’t need to. Ryxa was a representative of the government, after all.

“Your duty as a loyal citizen is cemented by your dedication to this matter,” she droned on, still smirking, the smirk now taking on a sardonic nature. She stood confidently in the middle of the room addressing Navarre, posing with her hand lightly touching her cheek and her elbow resting on her other hand. The red leather was a stark contrast to her skin and brought out the tinge of red in her strawberry-blonde hair.

She paused only a moment before saying, “The other citizens of Marn, and Thar Shaddin as a whole, will respect your words and rise to the cause. I’m sure the rewards of bringing this to their attention will be great.” The way she emphasized "rewards" seemed out of place.

[Navarre]

Navarre reached forward and began to pour a second drink. The response, while ambiguous, was clear enough: follow the party line and be rewarded down the road. She had expected as much. As long as she cooperated with the government and regurgitated its philosophy, there would be no conflict. She would pepper in her own views wherever she could, of course, but she would have to play it safe at first. Her plan, and whether or not to begin implementing it, depended entirely on the insurrection's next movements.

She moved the drink forward for her guest. If Ryxa wasn't interested, she would take it herself. Sipping her own, she smiled. "You flatter me. While I act out of my own conviction, I'd be more than happy to accept whatever compensation the government would offer me. After all, who am I, a mere noble, to deny our gracious leaders? I would shame my father's memory."

Exactly what these "rewards" entailed interested her. Bishani? No. Ryxa knew that bishani was the least of her concerns. With the combined fortunes of three aristocratic families at her disposal, she had more than enough to live comfortably and flood the streets with propaganda. She needed a position of power, and she suspected that Ryxa knew that. Why else would she be buttering up the government? Anything would do. The government supported her, but she needed to be part of it, not just an ally.

Navarre feigned a sigh and pulled a sheet of paper from her desk drawer. "Yet, all the same, I feel that I'm not serving Marn to the best of my abilities. As hard as I tried, I've fallen short of our government's expectations. My testimony may open some eyes, but many insurrectionists still wander the streets unnoticed." Reaching for a red pen, she began to circle items on the paper. "A few posters and pamphlets may hinder the insurrection's growth, but raising awareness won't stop an infestation."

Pausing, Navarre crossed out something on the sheet with enough pressure to tear through the paper and mark the desk. She raised her eyes to Ryxa, her smile slightly grotesque. "These ants reproduce far too rapidly for exterminators to handle; but, fortunately for us, even the most insignificant animals know fear. Terror is one of life's greatest teachers, and I have more than a few lessons in mind that I'd love to share with the government."

[Blood Ravenous]

Ryxa ignored the wordless offer of wine; she wasn’t much of a drinker. As Navarre spoke, a smirk with a hint of amusement grew on Ryxa’s face; she had confirmed that she understood it wasn’t about the noble’s own personal satisfaction, but an actual reward from the government, that the battlemage had implied. Of course, that battlemage was not going to agree or disagree with this. The judges had asked her to offer some sort of reward, but she preferred to let Navarre use her own imagination. That was more effective than anything Ryxa could promise.

At the mention of the young woman’s father, Ryxa took a few steps toward her and looked up at the portrait of the man above the desk. There was only one person it could be, and she saw a bit of his face in Navarre's. Besides that, the face was not one she recognized; the man had never done anything to draw the attention of the battlemages. As she gazed at the paint in the shape of a man that was now dead, Ryxa’s smirk faded and she folded her arms, saying dully, “I’m sure he’d have respected your work, too,” in order to continue her charade from earlier. Having not known the man, she wasn’t sure this was true, but that didn’t matter: Navarre continued to speak.

It was boring her a bit, until she heard the tear through paper and the words “exterminators” and “terror”. Though she didn’t favor death since it took away her victims, it was occasionally fun to see scum succumb to it--the light going out in their eyes, their limbs and mouth going still. (There were even a few choice people she'd love to kill herself.)

Navarre seemed to be implying there would be killing to scare the population, or perhaps just keeping them in fear would be enough. Did she want to kill the gnomes and the dwarves and whatever, or just keep them obedient with the threat of doing so?

Ryxa's eyes returned to the elf’s face, studying it with the precision of a hawk eyeing another hawk going after the same mouse. “You are absolutely ridiculous, little girl,” Ryxa snidely said, shifting closer to tower over her. “What do you know about terror?” She sneered down at the noblewoman, her superiority in the matter quite plain on her face. “When you ride through the city, do the vermin cower at the sight of you? When you speak, do they tremble?”

Ryxa shook her head. “What do you know about inciting fear?” As the rhetorical question still hung in the air, she stared down at the elf, her blue and black eyes fueled with cold anger. But she took a deep breath and reined herself in enough to make her point. “We don’t care about the games you nobles play. Our actions are not for you to decide.”

[Navarre]

Navarre kept her eyes on Ryxa as she spoke, her face a blank slate. Unsurprisingly, the battlemage didn't like some aristocrat's daughter lecturing her about her area of expertise. She didn't blame Ryxa for being annoyed. Nobles tended to look down on others, and as Madelynne she'd encountered a few who thought they knew her job better than she did. If she wanted to stay on Ryxa's good side, she had to show that she was more than some child with an inflated ego. At the same time, however, she couldn't risk revealing her true nature.

"What do I know about terror?" she repeated the question, folding the sheet of paper. It was rhetorical, but she planned to answer. "You're right to be incredulous. After all, pampered little girls like myself rarely know anything useful. We live in a world of aristocratic frivolity, curtseying for dignitaries and throwing tea parties. Our daddies hand us everything we want on a silver platter, and in time we start to think our bishani makes us better than everyone else. I'm sure you'd love nothing more than to press a blade against my throat and remind me of my place."

She let out a throaty chuckle as she finished off her glass of wine. "Allow me to tell you a little story. Your time is more valuable than mine, so I'll be brief. Years ago, my father told me a tale of a man named Yzaguirre. Yzaguirre was a crime lord who lived over a century ago, and the commoners feared him far more than his rivals. Shopkeepers rarely put up a struggle when his men visited, and guards looked the other way when he walked the streets. Yet, strangely enough, he was by far the least violent of his contemporaries. In fact, some say that he never personally took a life. So why was he so feared?

Simple: he knew how the mind works. Early in his career, when a shopkeeper refused to pay his protection fees, Yzaguirre decided to make an example of him. Late in the night, he and his men kidnapped the man and his family and took them to their base. Yzaguirre sat with the man in a chamber filled with torture devices, and he held the man's young daughter on his lap. He let the man take in his surroundings, imagine his wife and daughter at the mercy of those horrible machines. The man began to shake and sweat. Yzaguirre could practically feel the terror eating away at poor man's mind.

After what seemed like an eternity, Yzaguirre sent the little girl out of the chamber and brought the wife in. His men escorted the wife into the adjacent room, closed the door, and began to torture her. The shopkeeper could hear his beloved cry out in unimaginable agony. He fell to his knees and begged Yzaguirre to stop them, but Yzaguirre only smiled. After a while, her screams turned to whimpers, and her whimpers faded into silence. When the door opened, she was nowhere to be found. The man pleaded for them to tell him his wife's fate, but they wouldn't say. Was she alive? Were they going to sell her as a slave? They wouldn't say."

Navarre raised a gloved finger, smiling playfully. "Ah, but that's not the beautiful part. Next, Yzaguirre's men brought the daughter back into the chamber. She remained blissfully unaware as they led her into the torture room, smiling all the while. Her father watched in horror as the door closed once again. This time, however, there was no screaming and crying -- only silence. Complete, terrifying silence. The man had a vague idea of what they were doing to his wife, but he could only imagine what they were doing to his little girl. Two hours later, the men let the daughter out of the room. There wasn't a scratch on her, but something was wrong. She was still. Her smile was gone. She wouldn't speak. The childlike innocence had left her eyes. And Yzaguirre still wouldn't tell the man what they did to her.

Yzaguirre let them return to their home the next morning. The daughter wouldn't eat anything and soon starved to death. The shopkeeper lost his faith in the gods and realized that he was nothing more than a feeble flame struggling against the shadows. He hanged himself in his room not long after his daughter's death."

She reached for the glass Ryxa had refused and took a sip. "That, Battlemage Ryxa, is what I know of fear. As a specialist like yourself no doubt knows, we can torture and execute as many insurrectionists as we please, but that will only strengthen their resolve. The beauty lies in giving them the rope to hang themselves, and I believe I can help implement that philosophy on a city-wide scale. I do not intend to tell the government how to handle its affairs, nor am I foolish enough to assume I know better than a professional like yourself." She smiled. "This pampered brat merely offers her assistance, should you choose to take it."

[Blood Ravenous]

Ryxa allowed Navarre to give her little speech. Nobles did love their speeches, and she had yet to fully carry out her mission. As the woman droned on, she breathed out heavily as if sighing slowly, then glanced around the room. Seeing a couch, she made her way there. The leather of her armor creaked as she sat down stiffly, her back straight. Her aunt had taught her not to slouch like a farm girl, and the lesson was one of the rare instances that Ryxa took heed to anything that nosy bitch said.

Even though she was bored with the story, it didn’t show on her face. In fact, she watched Navarre intently, rarely blinking. This intense stare scrutinized its target, as if Ryxa was dissecting not just her words but the lady herself. She presented the story as if it was well-known to her. Was this “Yzaguirre” a hero of hers, perhaps? Someone she had read about it in a book?

When the noblewoman was done, Ryxa clapped her hands together once, her gloves muffling the sound to a dull thump. Stony-faced, she put her hands folded together on her lap. The story hadn’t impressed her in the least and that came across very clear. The meaning behind it was already well-known to to Ryxa. Yes, the best kind of torture did not show on the outside. That was Ryxa’s job.

Seeing this big-headed girl before her subjected to the same sort of treatment as the girl suffered in the story would be very satisfying. Ryxa would love to see this “noble” lady in pain to the point of begging for release. Only then would she could truly know terror. Such thoughts allowed Ryxa to crack a bit of a grim smile.

“Don’t waste your breath convincing me of that. Neither I or those I represent listen to people like you. However,” she said, losing all trace of the smile, “we are always watching.”

She lifted her head a bit and continued a bit more heatedly, “In this matter, do what you want--we won’t contradict you. Just be sure to keep your propaganda within reality. It’s true there are a few who wish to bring ruin to this fine city with their filthy, corrupting magic. There are always a few. But this is no rebellion we’re seeing. At the moment we just have a few more rowdy dissenters than is typical.”

Her eyebrows rose as she made her last point. “Magic is a beguiling force that fools even the bravest of souls, such as yourself. Remember, the underground movement we’re seeing is barely even big enough to be called a ‘movement’. It’d be foolish to even consider it a ‘rebellion’, and even more foolish to join such an overwhelming outnumbered ‘rebellion’.” She threw her hand up as if shooing a fly away. “You can even word it that way on your next pamphlet.”

[Navarre]

Navarre frowned. She had hoped to play upon Ryxa's bloodthirsty nature with her story, but it seemed that her gambit failed. In retrospect, it should have been obvious -- the government would never hire someone that could be so easily swayed. Even if she couldn't manipulate Ryxa, she had made her point quite clearly. She would dance to the government's tune, but they would do well not to underestimate her.

When Ryxa mentioned that the government would be watching her, a faint smile played on her lips. That went without saying, didn't it? But if Ryxa thought she could intimidate her, then she was sorely mistaken. "I would expect nothing less. But I daresay that a noble girl's daily life wouldn't make for an interesting show."

She reached for her paper again and quickly skimmed it over. "You needn't worry about me. I realize I was a little overzealous with my first attempt, so I'll gladly restrain myself. We don't want the sheep to get too excited, mm? I'll also use less racial language and focus more on encouraging loyalty to the government. And I'd be happy to submit a copy for review before I release my next publication, just to be careful. Which reminds me..."

Navarre slowly rose from her chair. Strangely, her body bent backwards as she stood, perhaps more than it should have been capable of, before straightening again. Her mind had yet to assume full control of her body, so her movements would occasionally become erratic. She took the paper from the table and held it out to the Battlemage. "A small list of suspected insurrectionists. You'd be surprised at how willingly people gave names to my men as they manned their stands. I'm not certain about the veracity of the claims, so make of it what you will."

[Blood Ravenous]

I would expect nothing less. But I daresay that a noble girl's daily life wouldn't make for an interesting show.

There was quite the tongue on this one. Ryxa glared at her darkly, but remained silent. It was rare for Ryxa to wish physical harm on someone, but taking this girl's tongue would be very satisfying. It would be fun to test whether or not she could still make it hurt if it was no longer there.

But she was here on business for the Judges, and she was loathe to step so far out of line. She would end up back in a Justice Hall cell, as she had years ago. As long as that experience was still in her memory, she wanted to remain on this side of the bars.

Even though her grotesque imaginings were distracting her, she still noticed that when the elf stood, she seemed as if she was about to collapse backwards into her chair. Ryxa's glare faded into a look of surprise, then a blank expression that was her usual demeanor. Navarre was certainly an unusual person.

The battlemage took the list and glanced over it. There were quite a few names. Nothing immediately stood out to her by looking it over.

A smirk played over her face at the mention of how this list was compiled. "I must admit that this is the sort of 'pamphlet' we battlemages enjoy," she said seriously. As she spoke she carefully folded the list up into a neat little square. Once done with that, she looked up at the noblewoman, still smirking, and continued, "If it proves useful, we will be in touch." Ryxa stood and was disappointed to find that with the elf standing, they were the same height. Her face relaxed, and a grim little smile emerged.

After tucking the folded paper into her belt alongside the pamphlet, she extended a hand. “Pleasure doing business,” Ryxa intoned, not exactly sounding as thrilled as that statement suggested. If Navarre took her outstretched hand, she would flick on the mental switch in her head and let her taste a bit of pain in her back. With her glove still on it wouldn’t be able to do much, Ryxa knew, but she wouldn’t want her to feel much more than an ache, anyway. This was her version of teasing.

[Navarre]

Navarre's eyes fell on the woman's outstretched hand. The Battlemages were a vicious lot, and Ryxa was one of the worst, so it seemed strange for her to make a friendly gesture. Still, it would be a mistake to refuse her: She no longer saw an ally in Ryxa, but she didn't want to make her an enemy. She put aside her suspicions and warily shook Ryxa's hand...

...and almost immediately regretted it.

A sharp pain shot through her back. At first, it was a little more than an ache, likely intended as a warning. But then the pain spread into her torso and surged through her limbs, and suddenly she felt lightheaded. An unseen force began to pull her away from her body, and her senses slowly dulled. As she lost control, her back bent again and she stumbled backwards, nearly colliding with her desk. Fortunately, she caught herself just in time and reached back, grabbing onto the desktop to steady herself.

Her senses returned, and her bond with the body was restored. Navarre took several deep breaths, then reached for her glass, downed the rest of the wine, and tossed it aside. Did Ryxa...? No, she couldn't have known what that would do. She'd cast some sort of spell on her mind, but her connection to Isyrion's body was too weak to take it. Was she truly that vulnerable after a transfer? From now on, she'd need to remain in hiding after jumping. The odds of fully separating from a vessel were miniscule, but she couldn't afford to take that risk.

"I've been... ill since my father passed," Navarre explained as she stood up straight and began fixing her hair. "Spasms, difficulty standing. It's been happening since I was little, normally goes away after a few days. Usually end up breaking something expensive before it's gone, of course."

After taking a few more deep breaths, she collapsed into her chair. She needed to sleep this off. "I'll have a boy send you a copy of my next publication before the release. Look it over, tell me if there's anything I should revise. I'll be heading out in a few days to speak with some business owners around the city... support in the middle class and so forth. Unless there's anything else, it's been a pleasure." She looked to the door. "AMELIA, GET IN HERE!"

A few moments later, an elderly maid opened the door and stepped inside. "You called, milady?"

"Show Battlemage Liorysei out. And offer her a bottle of wine or some kitchen knives or something to take home with her. Then find someone who doesn't have a foot in the grave to prepare my bedroom and draw me a bath."

[Blood Ravenous]

Ryxa has gotten more than she bargained for, and the look of joyful malice still hadn't disappeared from her eyes by the time Navarre composed herself. The woman had almost collapsed at that little bit of pain. How delightful.

She didn't care about the elf's explanation, of course. Weaknesses of all sorts were often encountered in her job. It wasn't all that surprising, and the sadistic pleasure at almost making the pompous brat fall to the floor with a touch made her forget, in the moment, that she had found this odd before.

Something like a small smile was still on her face as Navarre went on to explain her plans. Well, that interested her even less than the noble talking about her illness.

She stood with hands on her hips as, at last, someone arrived to show her out of this place. "It was a pleasure," Ryxa said rotely and approached the maid in the doorway. The old woman quickly moved out of the room ahead of her. Whether she had known a battlemage was visiting or not, Ryxa's outfit made it obvious she was one. Just seeing the splash of red on her hands was enough to scare her.

As the servant trotted through the mansion ahead of her, Ryxa spoke with disdain. "Showing me out of here will be enough of a gift, thank you." She didn't want something of Navarre's, and the way she was so easily willing to give of her material wealth made Ryxa envious, and therefore angry. The maid mumbled something and took a sharp turn down a different hallway.

Soon she was out of the confines of Navarre's estate. Ryxa took out the list of names again and scanned it more carefully for any she recognized. Perhaps there was time to investigate its usefulness before any reports were made of it.