Northgate
71-72 Autumn 217
Astarael
It was the day after their failed attempt to regain access to Sav’s hideout, when Astarael decided to contact Ethan to meet with her. She hoped it was long enough for him to cool down slightly. What she wanted to discuss with him would require a level head. In truth, she also had needed some time to process what had happened. But talking to Sav made her realize that it was time to share some of what she knows. Most of the group seemed to respect Ethan as the de facto leader, and he seemed the best choice to speak with.
It’s early evening, when she puts on her cloak and pulls the hood over her hair—now transformed into a deep brown by some clever work of Sav. She claims no actual magic was involved, but Astarael isn’t sure how that could be. Either way, she was grateful for the bit of transformation. She had dyed the dress she had been wearing as well. Anything to help her be less noticeable these days was a good thing. It’s impossible to shop for food and supplies when invisible, and even stealing what she needs can be risky. Besides, she didn’t like taking things from those who are struggling to get by to begin with.
Astarael makes her way to the designated message board, at a crossroads in the market district in the Farrows. She’s doing her best to look as casual as she can. Just a lady out for an evening stroll! Nothing to see here. She spends some time looking over the board, trying to seem like someone just interested in the local news. She adapts a rather bored look on her face, checks her peripheral vision to make sure no one is watching, and quickly pins on a small, crumpled scrap of parchment, partially tucking it under another notice to make it look as if it’s been there a while. Hopefully no one will even notice the tiny symbol drawn on it, scratched out with a piece of charcoal.
Her errand done, she continues on her walk.
Ethan
Rent for any given apartment is generally commensurate with several factors, location within the city often being chief among them. However, there are certain rare exceptions. Apartments above an apothecary are one of those exceptions. Although their penchant for catching fire was greatly exaggerated, without widespread facts to contradict it, this myth ensured few people who could afford to pay rent would volunteer to live above such a business.
This made for a perfect safe house - it was cheap and would only be used for gatherings, such as the one Ethan was waiting to hold with Astarael. He hadn’t seen her since the debacle in the sewers. Although he spoke with Sav earlier, he was still uncertain what to expect from this meeting, so he didn’t waste any energy trying to predict it.
Even still, he was struggling to focus on the other plans he had set in motion or the hanging he attended earlier in the day. His mind was absently trying to pin down the source of the overriding scent from the apothecary below - he’d worked at a similar place for half a year and knew the smell… he just couldn’t quite place it.
Astarael
Ethan is already there waiting, when she arrives at the safe house. He is sitting at a small table in the corner, facing the door. The look on his face indicates he is deep in thought. She sits down across from him.
“Hi. Thanks for coming to meet with me.” Astarael looks nervous, but continues on. “I think we both know that the other evening went very poorly. And after speaking with Sav, I find that I desire to defend my actions to you all, so that you don’t think that I’m a reckless fool.” She pauses, briefly. “However, there are also more important matters to discuss, besides what you think of me. I’ve told you some of what happened in my past, when I was captured, but I think it might be best if I elaborate a little more. I don’t know if any of our group would be subjected to the same treatment, but it’s very likely a possibility. It might also shed some more light on the gravity of what we’re dealing with. But first, I need some information from you.”
She looks up from the table, and straight at Ethan.
“I need you to tell me everything you know about the presence of the Inquisitors, and Grand Inquisitor in this city.”
Ethan
Ethan’s eyes still haven’t quite met Astarael’s even as she turns the conversation over to him. His contemplation deepens into to a scowl as she speaks.
What is that smell…?
The answer was so close and yet he still cannot place it. The elusive answer was vexing.
It was possible that he would have stayed in that place to the point of offending the girl, his mind intensely digging through his past in order to solve the trivial mystery. Bishop thankfully interrupted; he knew how Ethan could fall into an obsessive state, even when the problem wasn’t worth the effort he was putting into it.
Ethan! he screamed. Answer the girl!
At this Ethan shook the thoughts from his mind. His expression relaxed and he looked at Astarael as if seeing her for the first time. He smiled.
“Sorry, I was just…” he stops short. The explanation didn’t matter. He closed his eyes and massaged the space between his eyes for moment while he processed what she had said.
“Yes, I’m glad you’re here. Any information you have could be useful. But, I’m afraid I have very little to share.”
“I know the Grand Inquisitor is a woman. I know her face and her general physical appearance. She’s left handed. She’s capable of experiencing emotions - pleasure, at least.”
“I was told she has a way of breaking people. And that if she touches you, you’ll die.”
“I also know she came from the capital - she arrived here about a year ago. She’s often (possibly always) escorted with some elite looking soldiers, other inquisitors like the one we saw in the tunnels.”
“The inquisition itself… they seem interested in magic. They’re persistent… relentless in their efforts to track those who posses it. They’re experts at interrogating people and very good at gathering information.”
“That’s not very much, I know. But it’s all I have for the moment.”
Astarael
Astarael takes a moment to digest what he’s said.
“It’s more information than you might realize.
“What I specifically know is more than two years old, but last I heard, there were only 7 inquisitors, including the Grand Inquisitor herself. So it’s strange to me, to find that there are so many present here in Northgate. I think it confirms our suspicions that there are specific things they are after.
“And you are entirely right about their interest in magic. It’s like this in Moraeth, as well. The noble families there utilize magic as a way to maintain power. It seems to be the same here, for those who hold the highest power in this land, but publicly they demonize it. It’s smart, actually. Magic was already feared in Moraeth, for its connection to dark powers. But that doesn’t seem to be the case for all of you. Perhaps there are sources that are not as malevolent. That gives me some hope. I don’t know where my own power comes from, I must admit. But it makes sense, to create fear among the common folk of Isendel. They will out their own neighbors, and help the inquisition eliminate those who might be strong enough to fight back.
“It’s a safe bet that all of those who hold the highest ranks may possess powers of some kind. Death by a mere touch is particularly alarming.”
Astarael pauses, drawn momentarily into a memory of someone else she encountered, who also demonstrated a frightening power through touch alone.
“But there’s more to it, I’m afraid. Which brings me to what I went through. Why I’m here, and trying to help, rather than run and preserve my own life.
“When I was young, I had suspected for a long time that I may be different, but I truly don’t know where my abilities came from. I’ve had them since the day I left—I was upset, surrounded by angry villagers—accusing me of the cause of their troubles somehow. I got angry, and in that moment, I was struck by lightning. Those standing closest to me were dead. I just ran, and never looked back.
“I later figured out that I had some kind of control over lightning— I can manifest it in some ways. But I was sixteen, and naive. I made a mistake, got involved in a situation with some swans that I shouldn’t have. I used my abilities in front of them. I thought I might be able to trust one— but in the end, he betrayed me. They caught me, executed someone else in my stead, and I was brought to Galoring. That woman’s death is my fault, too.
“The inquisitor there tortured me for what felt like an eternity. Being cruel also seemed to bring him pleasure. He was always asking me to confess— to admit I was a witch, that I had conspired with a demon for this power, and to tell them it’s name.”
She looks at Ethan.
“As far as I know, this is not something I ever did. I never made any dark pact. I thought I had nothing to tell them. But eventually, they broke me. I said what I thought they wanted to hear. I confessed. After that, things changed. They began to experiment on me. They did things to try and provoke my abilities, teach me to use it in certain ways. They also had Eirlys give me potions that would suppress my powers— and forced me to kill. I tried to resist, at first. But it was kill, or be killed. So, I did. Eventually, I rationalized it as a way of providing mercy for those they placed before me. Maybe I could at least make it quick for them. End their own suffering. It went on like that. I was trained in the use of sword and dagger. I was forced to use and develop my powers.
“I don’t know what they would have done with me, if Eirlys hadn’t helped me. Gave me what I needed to escape. There would have been no way out, otherwise. Even with what I can do, I couldn’t make it out. Not on my own. He helped me survive.
“So, now you know. I’ve been on my own for a very long time, Ethan. Most of my life, really. I think that is why I was so overwhelmed by what happened the other night. I already feel connected to all of you. And seeing an inquisitor there…even though he was not the one I knew…I panicked. I’ve never fought in a situation with allies. I knew the inquisitor would be powerful, so when Talith jumped down, my only thought was to not let him fight alone. Any strategy I had left my mind, and instinct took over. I grossly underestimated their power, though.
“Next time I won’t. I’ll be better prepared.
“But Ethan, we need to do everything we can to stop them. We can’t let them, let her, get more powerful.
“It’s clear that they have greater numbers, with use of the soldiers. So I think the best thing we, as a small group, can do, is to continue to gather intelligence and make strategic hits that will cripple their operations. Like with the mine. Hopefully someday we will be strong enough to take out bigger threats.
“It would be nice to help every person in peril we come across. And sometimes, we certainly will be able to. But more often, the risk will outweigh the reward. I learned that the hard way. I think we need to keep our focus on the bigger picture. I can only hope it will help more, in the long term.”
Ethan
“Breaking people seems to be how they operate. They broke my brother too, I think. He was the strongest person I ever knew…
“It sounds like they were trying to turn you into a weapon. If they were teaching you how to fight while also removing your ability to resist commands… does that sound right to you?”
Astarael
Astarael resumes looking at the table. It’s clear that talking about this is difficult for her.
For a moment, she’s lost in her own memory again.
You can choose to go back down those stairs — back down into the dark of being so much less than you should be — or you can choose to become mine, and I will make you into something more.
All I ask of you is your absolute and unquestioning obedience.
She looks back at Ethan.
“I’ve come to that conclusion as well. It would seem the most reasonable assumption for their intent.
“Tell me about what happened to your brother. I was mostly isolated, but I did see a few others while I was there.”
Ethan
His brow is furrowed once again as he responds, his mind once again returning to contemplation only this time focused on a problem worthy of the effort it will take to solve it.
The barony is focused on finding magic… they break people who have it… they train some to be used as weapons(?)… was this all about power? An attempt to control magic and prevent any type of coup? Could it be that simple…?
“I don’t know what happened to him. I only saw the results. He seemed to be a shell of his former self. The parts of his mind that made him who he was seemed… gone.
“Bax was taken by them too. Briefly. It was a long time ago, when we were just kids. They did things to him too.
“He’s going to talk about it - or at least he plans to. To tell everyone what they were trying to do with him. When he shares what happened to him, it might be good if you could share some of the details for how they treated you.
“It’ll be painful, I’m sure. But it might give us information we can use.”
Astarael
A shell of his former self. That sounds about right. It took everything she had to keep part of herself hidden away. But holding onto it had been a struggle.
She didn’t get much of a chance to speak to Bax, the night they all met, but she did hope that he would be willing to share what he went through. The more they know about their enemy, the better.
“If it would help Bax, and all of you, in some way, I will gladly share my experiences. What I know. Having knowledge is its own tool, to be used against those who would control us.
“I am sorry for what became of your brother. It does sound as though we suffered a similar experience. There were many times I fought to hang on to who I was, to retain my own sense of self, my own will. I think they underestimated me. Underestimated what I could endure. I embraced their training, in the end. I wanted to be strong. I focused on finding a way to be free again someday— and to turn my strength back against them. It was not an easy task. It was almost impossible to hide my true intent. Keep that small part of myself buried away, where they could not touch it. And not lose my sanity in the process.
“They have many ways to render the truth from you.
“Eirlys urged me to flee over the border into Jorung when I escaped. That was my original plan, when I got to Northgate. But after seeing what suffering Isendel has endured at the hands of those who rule her, I can’t just think of myself. Or even of just a few. I want to do more to help. Not be someone who is useless. I felt so useless to all of you the other night.”
Ethan
“You weren’t useless. I was useless. There was nothing I could do to help any of you. What you all did… the choice that Talith made, was far worse than useless.
“If we had left - just dropped down when everyone left the scene where the bodies were - they would have three dead bodies, burnt to a crisp and almost no sign of where we came from.”
“Instead Talith just…” he swallowed the bitter thoughts before they escaped.
“Everything you’re saying now is all well and good. But it was also something that everyone already agreed to - things everyone said they already understood. It’s not rationally understanding it that needs to happen; it’s knowing that next time you won’t panic.
“You know that old parenting cliche, ‘if your friends jumped off a cliff, would you…?’ Well kid… you jumped.
“And it wasn’t one bad fight. By jumping out into the open, you undermined everything we’re working for. If you’re serious about wanting to stop the Inquisition…”
He was ranting. Venting. Blaming others for things that had already happened. This wasn’t helping anything.
By the next day, he was already over being angry - at least, he thought he was. But having to talk about the incident, remembering what Talith did over and over, it was getting him worked up again.
“I’m not angry, Astarael. I feel angry when I talk about it but… I got over it within hours. Now I’m just trying to figure out what to do with this…”
He sighed.
“Look, they can literally make 10,000 mistakes and still win. We are three days into this thing… and we’re already losing. We lost some of the element of surprise. We let them know some of your magic. We don’t have 10,000 attempts - a handful of fuck-ups can break all the work that’s been done and maybe even get a bunch of us killed.
“You want to help? Go ask Talith what the fuck he was doing. Push him for an answer. And don’t go easy on him just because he feels bad.”
Astarael
There were tears in her eyes, as she listened to what Ethan had to say. He claimed to not be angry, but the words themselves betrayed his frustration. He would be justified in feeling angry.
“You’re right. I let my fear get the better of me. Through my panic, I acted like an impulsive fool. And I am ashamed. Ashamed that Sav had to reveal herself like that. And now she is in more danger.
“The night I met Roux, Talith was the one who had gotten me into trouble. I had passed him in an alley, on my way to a new hiding place I had scoped out. I guess he saw the vial I wear around my neck, and recognised it. He startled me, and I ran. We ran right into a squad of Painted Swans, and they split up to pursue us, as we ran in different directions. I turned invisible, but the spell ended when I ran smack into Roux. I found myself cornered, against four…and Roux came to my aid. He tipped the scales of that fight, so that I might still be alive, and be free. But, he also asked that I leave two of the unconscious soldiers alive. That went against my instincts—they knew too much.
“But I made a choice. Roux had seen what I could do. He wasn’t afraid of me. He put himself at risk to help me. And then indicated that if I came with him…maybe I would have a chance to go after bigger fish than just the soldiers before me. So, I left them alive, and fled.
“I recognized that there is only so much I, or any of us, can do on our own. There is greater risk, as a group, both in being discovered, and providing emotional ties that could be exploited if we were captured.
“But now that we are together, we have a better chance of causing some real harm to them. Even Talith, impulsive as he is, can help us in some way. So, yes, I will talk to him.
“But you also made a choice, Ethan. Even though I can see your line of thinking in retrospect—hide, wait for everyone to leave—that kind of thinking is of just the individual. There was no way any of us could have sussed out that plan, not without prior discussion. Even so, so much can change in an instant. And you can’t always control the actions of others.
“If that’s what you’re hoping for, maybe you should work more on your own.
“You’ve made some very good points. And I’m not saying your frustrations are not justified. But, don’t let them split us all apart.”
Ethan
Ethan understands, finally, what he has to do.
His face grows regretful.
“No… you’re right. I don’t want something to split us apart. I can’t do this on my own - if I could, I wouldn’t have brought any of you into this.
“I can work with you all to get better at coordinating our abilities. I can work with you so that you can trust that when I do something, it’s probably for good reason, even if you don’t fully understand it at that moment.
“We’ll learn from the failure. Thank you, also, for telling me those things. The information may prove invaluable at some point… and I know it could have been easy to share.
“Feel free to speak with Talith, but forget what I said earlier. He made a mistake but… in the end, we’re all in this together.”
Astarael
Astarael is relieved to hear this.
“It will get easier, as we get to know each other. I will always do what I can. And I have failed plenty of times, enough to know how to pick myself back up and make the best of it. We will too. Especially if we have each other to rely on.
“But I also would like to know what Talith was thinking…”
Ethan
As she left, Bishop spoke into Ethan’s mind.
You lied to her…
Yes.
You put on a mask and gave the answer you knew you should give, not the one you wanted to say…
I guess I’ll always be wearing a mask — even with them. …maybe especially with them…
Don’t be so dramatic. And who knows? If you fake it long enough, maybe one day you won’t even have to pretend anymore?
No, Ethan said. Murderers seldom make for noble leaders, Bishop. But I can pretend to be just about anything. Even this.
A sardonic grin spread across his face as he began to brag in the tongue-in-check style his mentor was so accustomed to hearing. One day, people will write books about all the things I never was…
As he left the safe house, the answer finally came to him. The apothecary evidently practiced composting, mixing refuse and dirt to create small batches of potent soil.
The smell he couldn’t place earlier was fertilizer.
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