Shattered Exile

FOUR Affirmation-2

‘Natalya, are you going to take the bet or not?’

Their impromptu meeting with The Blade Lord had been intense, and the cycle long, with their meeting concluding late in the evening. All she sought now was a moment’s peace, the contents of her cup, and the warmth of the hearth to stave off the encroaching winter’s cold caress. She had the latter two, but the Captain of The Blades robbed her of the third. The red-haired giant sat upon a narrow bench opposite her, next to Nathanar. It amused her to see the unlikely duo sat adjacent to one another; one was an axe-wielding brute, who thrived on battle, whilst the other was – aside from Marcus of course – a poster boy for the Order. To her left, sat Thandor. The highly skilled duellist sat casually, and appeared entirely uninterested in Ragnar’s attempts to goad her into accepting the wager. Perhaps it was time to pull Thandor off the fence she thought mischievously.

‘Tell you what, Captain. I will take the bet, provided Thandor also agrees to your wager.’

Upon hearing her words, Thandor finally displayed signs of life; the veteran Paladin raised his eyebrows and cast a languid gaze towards her.

‘Excellent, so you are both in then!’ pressed Ragnar, enthusiastically.

‘Steady Captain, I do not believe Thandor has officially accepted your terms.’ said Nathanar, looking to broker the wager.

‘Come, Thandor. Is a mighty Paladin such as you scared of a friendly wager?’

Thandor said nothing. She watched with interest as her bench companion continued to maintain his nonchalant posture. Most assumed that Thandor simply cared not for the mundane trivialities of the domain in which they lived. However, she had fought alongside the skilled Paladin many times, and knew him will enough to know better. Thandor gave nothing away, but behind his seemingly disinterested exterior lurked a sharp cunning, waiting for the opportune moment to strike. Thandor’s choice of weapon lent itself well to his masked disposition. The rapier was a potent weapon when wielded by one skilled in patience and precision – as well as possessing a little luck. Although the unconventional choice of weapon robbed the Paladin of half-swording and its associated attacking options, such as the murder stroke, nonetheless, Thandor preferred the extended reach and tip agility offered by his rapier. The Blades rarely fought heavily armoured opponents, therefore Thandor’s decision was not without its logic. However, despite his compelling reasoning, she still favoured the vastly extended range of her bow.

‘Your terms do not appeal to me, Ragnar.’ replied Thandor, who then took a slow sip from his cup.

‘Ha, more like you are scared that the light bringer will lose to Lothnar.’

Again, Thandor chose not to immediately respond. The Paladin was well practiced in managing Ragnar’s quips, and met each one with a measured – if not irksome – response.

‘I am not interested in wagering services. I will, however, agree to your terms provided you are willing to wager a favour.’

Upon hearing Thandor’s words, Ragnar’s body stiffened noticeably, as the Captain of The Blades tried to fathom the wily Paladin’s play. Intrigued, Nathanar leant forwards to meet the cunning Paladin’s stare.

‘Well played, Natalya, using another to put the Captain on the defensive.’ said Nathanar, with a curious smile.

Ragnar snorted derisively, clearly unimpressed with the turn of events.

‘What is your game, Thandor?’ said Ragnar gruffly.

Thandor took another sip from his cup, prolonging the tension, then turned his gaze at last towards Ragnar.

‘If Rayna loses, both Natalya and I will work for you personally, for ten cycles each, performing the required administrative functions necessary to run our Order. However, if Rayna wins, you will owe each of us a favour.’

‘What favour?’

‘Who can say? That is the blind nature of a favour.’

Ragnar grunted in annoyance, before throwing his cup – along with its contents – into the hearth. The flames flared energetically as they reacted violently to the liquid’s unwanted presence. Engaging her ability, she plucked the discarded cup from the flames with her mind, and set it down neatly between them upon the stone floor. Ragnar sneered, as even his attempt to vent his frustration had been thwarted.

‘Calm down. The cup does not deserve your ire.’ She said, further infuriating Ragnar.

‘Captain, will you accept the revised terms of the wager?’ asked Nathanar politely, who was clearly trying to diffuse the situation by quickly drawing their attention back to the heart of the matter.

‘Fine, it matters not. Rayna shows promise, but she will not be able to match Lothnar’s skills.’ said Ragnar, pointedly.

‘Then we have ourselves a wager.’ she said, hoping that with the matter settled, she would finally get the moment of peace that she craved.

Ragnar stood up, towering above them, and grunted once more before taking his leave. The Captain of The Blades offered each of them a curt nod, then strode out of the chamber, leaving the three of them to enjoy the late-night warmth of the hearth.

Following the Captain’s departure, she sat quietly, for a moment at least, enjoying the welcome peace that was finally hers. Content with the company of her brothers, she languidly watched the flames dancing silently in the hearth, rapt by their mesmerising allure. Lost in the moment, her thoughts began to wander. She found herself pondering the unlikely possibility of an upset victory at the Trials. Ragnar was right; The Guardian certainly did show promise, though sparring against novices in the arena, and using her ability to destroy the Narlakai, would not be enough to secure a victory against Lothnar. Perhaps she had been too hasty in accepting the Captain’s wager, she mused. Yet despite her tardy concerns, she clung to the knowledge that Thandor too had tied his fate to that of Rayna’s own. Thandor was not known for taking chances, meaning that the veteran Paladin was no doubt confident that The Guardian would in fact succeed. As such, she felt reassured, despite logic and reason suggesting otherwise.

‘I do not like it.’ said Nathanar, ushering in an end to their brief moment of silence.

‘Like what?’ she asked irritably, annoyed by the sudden interruption.

‘The Trials.’ replied Nathanar, who now seemed buried in thought.

‘What is there not to like about the Trials?’ asked Thandor, who only now began to take an active interest in their conversation.

‘Perhaps he no longer believes that he can win.’ she said aloud, with an amused smile.

‘It is not that.’

‘Well then, perhaps you could be less vague? Neither I, nor Thandor, are telepathic, you understand?’

‘Please accept my apologies. It was remiss of me to utter my musings aloud.’

‘Oh, come on Nathanar, you cannot leave us both hanging.’

‘Spit it out.’ said Thandor, before taking another sip from his cup.

‘I...just feel that it is irresponsible – going ahead with the Trials that is. If there is an immediate internal threat to Freylar, surely we should reschedule the games?’

‘Careful brother. Imagine the Captain’s displeasure if you denied him his habitual games.’ replied Thandor, with a wry grin.

She laughed. The thought of Nathanar informing the Captain that there would be no games for the current pass amused her. Knowing Ragnar, the Captain would ring Nathanar’s head like a bell, using the butt of his axe, at such a blasphemous notion.

‘Nathanar, let me ask you a question.’ continued Thandor, who leaned forwards, finally giving up his casual posture. ‘Do you trust Marcus?’

‘What? Is that a trick question?’ replied Nathanar defensively.

‘No trick...do you trust him?’

‘Of course I do. However, the decision to go ahead with the Trials feels wrong. Surely we should all be focusing our efforts on locating such a dangerous exile?’

‘Agreed, but let me ask you this: do you think that he made that decision?’

Nathanar exhaled deeply through his nose and turned his gaze from Thandor to her. The Blades’ newest Paladin looked uncomfortable, and clearly had no desire to answer Thandor’s leading question. She offered Nathanar a warm smile, attempting to put him at ease once more.

‘Nathanar, you may speak candidly, you are amongst friends here. I suspect that your thoughts – at least in part – coincide with our own.’ she said calmly.

‘Natalya, with respect, we convened here immediately after meeting with The Blade Lord.’ replied Nathanar, factually. ‘Neither of you has had the opportunity to discuss this matter in private.’

‘Verbally no, but we have known each other long enough to be able to read one another’s body language. I do not believe that this decision sits well with Thandor either – am I right?’ she said, glancing towards the famed duellist.

Thandor smiled before replying, ‘Indeed, you know me well, Natalya. This decision is worrying, on two accounts.’

‘Would you care to elaborate?’ asked Nathanar, turning his attention back to Thandor.

‘Of course, provided, however, that you first answer my question.’

There was a momentary pause in their conversation as Nathanar took the measure of Thandor. On a personal level, neither knew the other particularly well. However, she sensed that both Freylarkai respected one another, for both their skill with a blade, and their ability to reason both logically and calmly.

‘I suspect that the decision split the council.’ said Nathanar, bringing about an end to the temporary lull in their conversation.

‘That is also my belief. Kirika would not have sanctioned the decision, given that she was the one who instigated the curfew, which brings us to the heart of the matter.

‘Meaning that the decision is likely the result of the queen’s will alone?’ Nathanar interjected.

‘Yes! But more worryingly, this would imply that Mirielle overruled the others – assuming Marcus did not in fact abstain.’

There was another pause in their conversation, as they each digested Thandor’s sobering perspective on the matter. There was no denying that Mirielle’s rule had been a boon for Freylar, however, over the passes their aloof queen had become increasingly fickle and capricious. Mirielle’s recent controversial decision was far from an isolated case; since the Narlakai invasion, their queen had displayed increasingly questionable judgement. The previously strong backbone of leadership underpinning Freylarkin society was beginning to buckle. Subtle cracks, once easily attributed to stress, were now widening, giving cause for concern. She sighed heavily, as she ran her fingers through her shoulder length blonde hair. She tried to find fault with Thandor’s deduction, yet there was none – they could not deny the inescapable logic behind his reasoning.

‘Natalya, what is your view on the matter?’ asked Nathanar, regarding her now with a grim expression.

‘Although I am loath to admit such thoughts – especially aloud – nonetheless, I agree with Thandor’s assessment entirely.’ she replied, casting her gaze towards the hearth. ‘The Narlakai invasion has rattled Mirielle, though I suspect that her greatest enemy now is self-doubt. Consider the facts: two exiles – one of whom is possibly still present – have infiltrated our domain, and both have released our kin. It was by Mirielle’s will alone that the Freylarkai, to whom I referred, were exiled.’

‘An interesting point.’ said Thandor, musing over her words.

‘In any event, this recent poor decision, along with others which you have not been privy to, on account of your recently promoted rank, leave me questioning our queen’s clarity of mind.’

‘What are you implying, Natalya – a coup?!’ asked Nathanar abruptly.

‘No. A few bad decisions are hardly the basis for leadership reform alone. A successful coup – as you put it – requires more than mere evidence of one’s error in judgement. Damning critical analysis must go hand-in-hand with an alternative solution.’

‘Such as...?’

‘A principle, or rather an ideal – something which the Freylarkai can rally behind of their own free will.’ she said, musing aloud.

‘Interesting.’ said Thandor, who clearly agreed with her thinking.

A dark mood descended upon their previously light-hearted gathering, as they each paused for further reflection, allowing the hearth’s greedy mesmerising flames to consume their gloomy thoughts. Her nagging doubts about Mirielle’s continued ability to rule effectively preyed on her mind, as she further considered Thandor’s deduction in addition to her own.

‘Let us suppose, for a moment that is, that such evidence was presented. Where then would one find such an icon?’ asked Nathanar boldly.

‘I find it ironic that you should be the one to air such thoughts aloud, being the role model that you are – or at least I thought you were – for our Order. However, I believe that I may have an answer to your question.’ replied Thandor. ‘Look to the opening duel of the Trials in two cycles. I believe there, you will find the answer you seek.’