Suspicions (Camarat/Elske)

[Harbor]

Elske did grow accustomed to having a relative schedule, though not having had one for most of her life she hadn't expected it would be this easy. Well, not easy, but at least not painful. What a wonderful way to organize one's world, she thought to herself. But at least she and Camarat were getting along. She hadn't expected to, with him being a noble, and a wizard, but he was shockingly painless to spend her time around once she came to understand his odd habits. Such as never directly answering a question. But if that was his most irritating trait she supposed they were doing well. She'd mostly stopped glowering at him--though he sometimes still deserved it--and no longer jumped when he made sudden movements. Having noticed, on occasion, that her solid mistrust seemed to wear on him she had made the effort to at least hide it, if not work her way through it, and by now she wasn't sure in which endeavor she had succeeded. Sometimes he was even enjoyable to be around, so most likely the second, which was another unexpected happenstance of her 'employment' as his friend. 

However he could not say the same of the infernal castle he spent a significant amount of time within. When he had to spend his nights there she still often slept under the bed in her room, since people were less likely to look for her there and she therefore felt safer. Fenir often slept with her down there, and didn't seem to mind, though he also appreciated having the entire bed to himself. 

On one particular morning she slept later than usual, though her sleeping schedule was far from regular. She heard someone knocking at her door but the voice accompanying it wasn't Camarat's nor did they invoke his name, so she and Fenir ignored them. Some time later someone knocked again, opened the door, saw no sign of her and hastily left. Elske paid them no mind. SHe got up when she finally felt rested, pulled on brown trousers, her rib brace, a brown shirt and a brown vest, and Fenir reminded her with a snort to put shoes on. They left her room to the sound of distant commotion, as though someone was looking for something. Elske shrugged and they went the other way to seek out the wizard. 

The first person who saw her ambling down the corridor was a maid. She squeaked and ran the other way. Elske frowned. Not a minute later one of the guard captains Elske was slightly more familiar with--though not necessarily friendly--saw her, looked irritably relieved, then scowled and marched up to her to take her by the upper arm. 

"Where have you been?" he grumbled. "Thought you'd run at last?"

Having been informed that to act like a regular human she had to stop damaging the people who touched her, Elske didn't fight his grip and instead scowled back. Fenir rumbled, but she signed for him to be still. "Oh aye," she retorted, knowing that reverting to her more natural speech patterns vexed him in particular. "That's why I'm gadding about with naught but my clothes. What are you on about, Darren?" 

He began marching her down the hall and she rolled her eyes. Since he was going in the same direction she was she continued letting him think he'd won in the grand race to capture her. "Camarat mentioned your unusual absence hours ago. Naturally we organized a search."

Elske rolled her eyes even more emphatically. "And if the soldier you sent to my room had actually looked for me instead of jumping to conclusions he could have spared you all this fuss."

He didn't believe her. She was unsurprised, and accompanied him to Camarat so he could proclaim what a naughty ex-criminal she had been. 

Once there Darren--who had always been rightfully suspicious of her--explained the situation from his perspective, while Elske listened with one eyebrow raised. She then looked to Camarat to see what he thought about the whole debacle. Fenir had already trotted happily over to the wizard, always interested in obtaining more attention. Pointedly, Elske said to Darren, "D'you think I might have the pleasure of my arm back? Just in case I come over faint with all this excitement I'll need both hands to catch myself." 


*Let me know if I can adjust anything for you--I took a bit of a liberty assuming Camarat would mention that Elske didn't turn up when she usually did.

[Aelodil]

It had been a long morning - at least to Camarat. He had been forced to deal with staying in the castle for the few days that the Council needed him on a certain matter. Though he thought Elske was even less pleased than he was with this decision. To her the castle had been a prison for awhile - literally. And it was a long while too, so that probably didn't encourage her to stay. Not to mention that even to a normal person the castle didn't seem exactly hospitable. Camarat himself didn't appreciate most of the exterior and even interior designs of the castle. It seemed to reflect it's previous kings' personality far too much for his liking. There was a certain edge of madness to it and a darkness that seemed to simply lurk by. Besides, he could feel the death hanging around every part of the castle and the animosity as well.

Ignoring all these thoughts, Camarat snapped back to the present. He was currently sitting in a meeting which the other Council members had all left from. Unfortunately for him he couldn't leave the boring nobles considering the meeting was held in his office. He was almost certain that this was the Council members' way of getting back at him for not residing primarily in the castle. He probably could've done something about it but it seemed so petty a problem that he simply didn't think it was worth it in reality.

Turning to one of the princes who had just talked he cocked his head and asked, "Pardon? What's that? I'm afraid I just drifted off in thought. Would you care to repeat your comment?" certain the other princes and nobles would simply associate his absent-mindedness with his old age though that wasn't true. Not entirely anyway.

The young man who seemed to remind Camarat of a weasel smiled and took a breath. The only thing that gave away the anger from the young man at being belittled by Camarat was the slight tone he adopted in his speech as he explained, "I was saying you seem to have taken to living outside the castle and how interesting the reasoning behind it is." confirming Camarat's thoughts that the man had no idea why he left the castle.

Giving the young man a smile of his own, Camarat nodded. He was not about to humor the man by telling him the answer to his unspoken question. Certainly if there was one thing he appreciated of all these meetings it was the anger he instilled in most of the young nobles. Even most of the older nobles found him beyond frustrating. Personally he found it amusing. Not that he'd ever admit it to any of them. In fact most of his time nowadays was spent just talking to Elske. He rarely found himself talking to others. Not that he minded talking to others - at least not all others. He just didn't spend much time outside of his house or office in which case his only company would be Elske. Something he was completely fine with.

Finally, after a few hours, he let a comment slip by about how Elske had taken a long time out this time. One of the infuriating young men snorted and waved a hand, saying, "What would you expect from such an ungrateful rat? She probably ran away. Guards! Go form a search party and find this stupid little pesk."

It almost definitely wasn't the first time Elske was insulted but this time it was in front of Camarat and without even any care. Standing up slowly, Camarat brought himself up to his full height and glared at the young man from beneath his bushy eyebrows. His staff flew into his hand and slammed it on the marble floor. All eyes turned to him and most flinched. "You will not speak in such a manner when speaking of my partner, young man. Now I'd advise you to leave my chambers before you infuriate me anymore. Oh, and on your way out, I'd better not hear another venomous comment about myself or my partner. Am I clear?" and only waited a moment to see the tight nod before continuing, "Off you go then." shooing them all out with a wave.

Sighing, he sat down behind his desk and thrummed his fingers on the desk itself. He was in a bad mood now. Unlike sometimes when Elske left Fenir in Camarat's care this time she had gone out with Fenir so he was completely bored. Not for long though - suddenly a guard came barging through with Elske in tow and his face lightened up. Especially when the large dog Fenir came running straight to him. He loved the dog so much. He immediately lowered himself slightly to pat the dog's neck. Then remembering Elske and her severe hate of being manhandled he looked up and gave the young man who had brought her in a scowl. A proper scowl formed on Camarat's face seemed much more intimidating than it sounded and the guard immediately snapped to attention, both his arms going to his side. Keeping on his pretense of being upset Camarat said, "Off with you now and never again jump to conclusions. You may leave us now." his voice losing it's kind touch. Darren didn't waste time running out.

With Darren gone, Camarat's face split into a green and the kindness seeped back into his voice. "Lovely to see you Elske. I just finished an awful meeting with those snobby little boys. It's really annoying. I don't think I can handle much more of them. How has your day been? I take it Fenir's been keeping you out of trouble?"

*That's fine, works perfectly. Nice touch!*

When you die, your world ends. The world may go on, but in your eyes, the world ends with you.

-Carpe Diem

[Harbor]

Elske raised an eyebrow at how swiftly Darren went from hunched with irritation to straight-backed. Maybe someday she’d have the sort of attitude to demand that kind of attention. The thought highly appealed to her, but for the moment she had neither the ambition nor the persistence to develop that sort of attitude. It seemed like far more work than it was often worth, to her, though Camarat would likely disagree.

However she was very glad to see that Camarat no longer looked stressed when she came into the room, or wary. She’d felt guilty for giving him that impression of her once she’d started to no longer expect he was going to splash magic wherever he went just because he could, though giving people that impression of her had been useful for the last several years. She was glad too, though still slightly bemused, that Camarat didn’t appear to hold the same automatic assumptions as the guards did. Camarat had, strangely, seemed to give her a modicum of trust from the day he met her, which she would never understand, but at least by now she felt that she’d earned some of it. While still stubbornly refusing to make clear her intentions or her plans for her every day, she did let him know if she planned or wished to abruptly do something or go somewhere. It seemed the respectful thing to do.

Elske sardonically smiled as Darren released her supposedly captive arm, and sauntered over to a spare chair she could unbutton and drape her vest over. ”It’s been illuminating, thank you. My offer of smartening up the lads stands.” She hadn’t yet been able to entirely drop her learned noble-speech around Camarat, in part because he spoke with it himself, and because she was uncertain about how he’d react to her natural peasant-talk, but she was accustomed to both patterns, and had never spent much time ruminating on her preferences. Besides, the thin shirt under her brace was folded strangely.

Elske made a face as she worked her hand under the loose outer shirt, fingers tugging underneath the leather brace to straighten the undershirt. ”We were asleep under the bed and evidently no one felt the need to properly search the room before raising a cry. Next time you’ve got a meeting say something and I’ll send him to keep you company.” Finally satisfied, she straightened her shirt again, tucked it in, and rebuttoned the vest.

Fenir took up seemingly permanent residence at Camarat’s side and Elske rolled her eyes. Glutton. She took a slow seat on the edge of the armchair, elbows on knees, when normally she would have paced or asked if there was anything she could help with. But instead she glared at the wall as she thought, dredging up the words she hadn’t used in so long that she no longer wanted to admit she sometimes needed them. She knocked her knuckles together, thinking, for several minutes before finally putting all the proper words in the right order, still scowling at a bare patch of wall. ”I’d like to look through some old records but I don’t know how or where to look, and I’m not the best at reading. Would you have the time to help me? It isn’t urgent.” How desperately she wished she could do it alone, just keep all the knowledge and gaps to herself, not need to bring her worries to another person’s attention. This was a matter she’d more or less considered settled for decades, but coming back to where the fracture had started had made it feel as though it were widening inside her, and she wanted to, with evidence this time, close it with more than her own beliefs. Empty space was heavier than it ought to be, as was ignorance one was well aware of.

Elske pressed her thumb and fingertip into her temples, hiding her face, skin feeling threadbare. ”I want to look through the records from the spring season, thirty-nine years ago.”

[Aelodil]

Normally someone might have been flustered to have a woman fix her undershirt in front of him, but Camarat was far too old to feel flustered anymore. Instead, he sat back in his chair and waited patiently. Though he wasn't sure, he had a suspicion that Elske thought he found her slang speech irritating, which wasn't quite right. If anything he appreciated when she talked like that considering his entire day would be spent with people who spoke in formal and stiff manners. "I don't know, Elske. If I spend too much more time with you I might actually just take you up on that offer. Though I think we'll have an excuse to smarten them up soon enough. Soon enough one of them is going to snap at me, I'm sure. Just today I almost got one of them to raise his voice. Oh, how much fun it is to toy with them." for once, his voice rather sardonic.

"But please, if you feel more comfortable with your slang tongue then go ahead. The only reason I talk the way I do is because my old age has made me accustomed to it. If you find it more comfortable to speak how you like, then don't hesitate. I don't mind one bit. In fact I find it quite amusing because the others get frustrated by it." Not sure whether or not he was being a little mean to the people with him, Camarat shrugged it off with a mental laugh.

Raising an eyebrow, Camarat gave a small chuckle. "Let's be fair, Elske. Most of the guards are terrified of you - and for good reason. You could beat most of them to death with your bare fists. I doubt they'd take the extra trouble of making sure whether or not you're there. In fact I'm probably one of the only people comfortable around you." He knew Elske had no idea why he was comfortable around her and he preferred to keep it that way. He found it rather amusing. His main principle was to always keep secrets. It was one of the few things he felt was making him become rather crazy.

A warm smile spread across his lips as Fenir sat down next to him, his large tail wagging back and forth as it thumped on the ground. Reaching into one of the drawers on his desk, he took out a large strip of meat. Turning to Fenir, he dangled the meat in front of him so he could take notice then he lowered it so the dog could eat it. What normally would've taken a dog some time to eat, he devoured almost instantly. Camarat scratched behind Fenir's ears who gave an appreciative bark.

Looking back at Elske, Camarat noticed her lack of consistency with her usual routine. Not that Elske was usually one for organization but he normally had her own set of actions to do. When she asked him the question, he understood why. She hated asking for something though Camarat couldn't exactly understand why. He cocked his head slightly, an indication of his intrigue. "Elske you realize I don't mind helping you regardless of what it is. Also, let's be honest. I always have time. I'll help. Any specific records? I won't pry as to why."

Over their time spent together, Camarat had learned to respect when Elske didn't seem to want to talk about something. It wasn't often because it was too painful for her but rather she didn't want to toss her worries on someone else. He waited a little for Elske to state what records. By the time she answered, he raised his eyebrows but didn't comment. Instead he stood up and gestured for Fenir to stay, one of the few gestures he had been able to get Elske to show him. "Follow me, Elske." before leaving the chambers. He began weaving through the hallways until they arrived at what looked like a library. He made his way through the different rows of bookshelves and stopped at one. He rested his finger on a book's spine and began sifting through the books until he reached one from thirty-nine years ago, during spring. Not entirely sure what he as supposed to be looking for he turned to Elske. "These are the records. Any specific things you want to know?"

(I took the liberty of assuming Elske taught him a few gestures for Fenir, also sorry for quality. been a while)

When you die, your world ends. The world may go on, but in your eyes, the world ends with you.

-Carpe Diem

[Harbor]

Elske’s lips turned up with wry amusement. ”Just give me the holler,” she said, confident the only defense training those pudding nobles had was the kind to protect their lady during a mugging. But that wasn’t how Elske fought. Either she fought for fun—to keep her hand in and for entertainment—or for the purpose of causing damage. Most thieves were only desperate, and untrained. She couldn’t quite see why Camarat so disapproved of her instigating fights for fun—though she’d refrained from doing so in all of the many opportunities she’d been given since he’d brought her here—if he did the same thing with words in his council room. Broken arms were easier to mend than broken pride.

Elske lifted one eyebrow at him as his words aligned themselves closely to the errant thought she’d already discarded. He’d done that on multiple occasions before, but not yet remarked upon something he’d perceived that she expressly didn’t want him to know or think about; thus far she’d not deeply questioned the manner in which he perceived these things. Some people were just good at it, and coincidence was a wily god. ”I’m more concerned you’d not understand it. It’s less slang and more an entirely differing dialect.” But still she’d ease him into it. To teach him by way of context, if nothing else. She did prefer her own cant to the nobles’ speech. But if it irked the pudding-men, peasant-cant it was.

Elske hid how much it pleased her to hear that the local guards were afraid of her. That was as it should be—she’d had twice the practice in fighting that they had, and a far wider range of experience than most of them would ever have the opportunity to pit themselves against. It wasn’t that she was any more talented than they, just that she’d had the time to accumulate stronger and different skills. Absently, still regarding the wall and pretending it was a window, she retorted, ”Likely because you’ve got something I’m terrified of.” Not that she held it against him anymore. Much.

She turned at the sound of Fenir’s increased rate of tail-thumping and frowned. ”Do I have to enact visiting hours between you two? If he gets fat I will.” Camarat always—within her sight, anyway—gave Fenir healthy things, so she only had to reduce the amount of food she gave him at mealtimes—which she had—so she didn’t mean it as stringently as she would otherwise. However any increase in fatness she would heavily frown upon. Fenir may be her closest thing to family, but she held him to the same standards of health that she held herself.

Elske chewed the inside of her cheek. She’d already leaped off this cliff—she might as well spread her arms and embrace it now. ”I need healers’ reports.” Her throat was hot, dry. She knew she had to be more specific if she wanted to find the records by the end of this year, since she didn’t know how records in this place were organized, and since she read so slowly. But for now this would get him started. She could decide how to best ask for the last piece when he needed it.

Camarat moved at a surprising pace for a man of his age, particularly when one knew he was indeed far older than he appeared. Elske would have preferred to bring Fenir, and could have overridden Camarat’s use of her command, but if Camarat thought their destination was a place to which Fenir shouldn’t be, she’d survive it alone. She hadn’t wanted to allow anyone but herself to know any of Fenir’s commands, but came to acknowledge the logic of Camarat being able to direct the hound when he was so often alone in the wizard’s company. If Fenir perceived one of the pudding-men as a threat, she wanted the wizard to be able to tell him to yield, since Fenir couldn’t know the elderly man was well capable of waging his own battles, if he chose to do so.

Elske supposed the dusty library Camarat showed her to would be more impressive to someone with a greater appreciation for what the library enthroned, but she did appreciate the vast quantity of literature housed here. By the uniformity of most of the books’ spines she assumed most were documentation of some sort rather than fairy tales or verses, but didn’t have the knowledge to say. She half-extended one hand to her side but let it drop, remembering that Fenir was not here.

The heat in her throat having spread to the rest of her insides, Elske took the weight of the book he’d indicated to, opening it to the first page, knowing the improbability of her name being on it. She touched the strings of numbers to the left of each row of words. ”What are these?” The numbers didn’t change with every row, and when they did change, generally only went up a number.

”This should be all I need, thank you,” she said then, and seeing a lamp with matches beside it on a nearby table, went to it and lit the lamp, sitting in the armchair with the book on her lap, to begin at page one. This was something she wanted to do alone. 

Understanding how the records were organized took the most effort. The date was the first part, then the name of the healer, the name of the affected person, then a description of the problem and the treatment. Ignoring all the rest of the information, Elske scoured only the names of the affected persons, searching first for names without titles—no Lords or Baronesses—then for names which started with an E. It was an uncommon name to start a name with, apparently, which made her search a little faster than she’d expected it to be once it truly began. But with each page she turned the blackened churning in her stomach worsened. Were there other books for this spring? Did every injury and ailment of the palace fit in this one tome?

Four hours later Elske threw the book to the ground, infuriated. It wasn’t there. Her name did not exist on those pages. But her problem had existed, it had just never been treated, at least not in her memory. The only way to seal that fissure was to know what had happened once her eyes had been closed. But now, without that question answered, her insides felt as though they were burning. Smoke felt like it rose from her skin.

Ellske shoved the tome to the floor. ”It isn’t here. The records are incomplete.”

But that meant she had to tell him more about what she was looking for. And that she had been hoping to avoid doing. She resisted the urge to break things. ”I need….” The words were brambles she was attempting to regurgitate when she’d spent decades trying to keep them contained. Reminding herself that she’d already hinted at this last shred of information, she kicked the floor and gave it. ”I need the records from the lower dungeons. Where the fighting ring was.” She stared resolutely down at the contortions of the grain of the wood in the table she’d heaved the book onto.

{That's just fine. Makes sense!}

[Aelodil]

Camarat wasn't entirely sure if Elske meant that. Was she still terrified of his ability to use magic? He knew she didn't appreciate magic as a rule but he wasn't sure whether or not she still hated it. He allowed a smile play on his lips when she told him to just give her a holler. He wouldn't take her up on that offer, of course. Camarat did not believe in violence. It was one of the few things he felt people found in him that didn't scare them off. Else, they probably would have been terrified of him. He listened to everything she had to say but opted not to say anything until they were in the lonely library.

"Don't worry, I'm quite certain I could understand it. You seem to forget the many centuries I've had with many different kinds of people of different species. Besides, I daresay we'd both find it amusing considering the other stiff buggers in the castle find it annoying." Camarat let the hint of mockery enter his voice. He wondered whether or not he shouldn't discourage Elske to pick fights, considering how many verbal insults he threw at people. A bruise or broken bone would only last for a few days, maybe weeks. Verbal insult, depending on the scenario, would never heal.

With his hand on his staff while he stood waiting, Camarat decided not to comment on her comment about him having something she was terrified of. Instead, he closed his eyes and reached out with his mind to feel a little more at peace. To Camarat, the only peace he could really ever find was in the confines of his mind.

"I'm not going to lie, Elske. I find it curious that anyone would find an aspect of me terrifying. For starters, I look like a frail old man and that isn't entirely just for show. Besides, I have a natural hate for violence. It would take quite a lot to anger me enough such that I would attack someone." Camarat kept his eyes closed, remaining in a half state of meditation. Opening his eyes and turning towards her, he continued, "On a side note, yes, you might as well enact visiting hours for Fenir and I. I do love him sincerely. Don't worry, though, I doubt either of you could get fat if you tried considering how much you run around."

Camarat noticed Elske's initial surprise at his agile pace. He kept a chuckle to himself. One of the few pleasures an old man such as himself could have was fooling youngsters. Well, youngsters to him maybe, but many people he considered youngsters were actually quite old in comparison to most other people. That philosophy of his got him into trouble on multiple occasions.

At Elske's question, Camarat leaned over her shoulder to see what she was gesturing at. Tracing down to her finger, he noticed what she was gesturing to. He grimaced. "That's the number of healers attended the patient." it was plain on his expression just how disgusted he was with the lack of care given to the patients. He let her be and set his staff down in front of him, letting his magic aura keep it naturally afloat. He crossed his legs, which wasn't easy considering he wore a robe, and let his magic keep him floating in front of his staff. Closing his eyes, he let his consciousness wander.

He spent the next few minutes in a meditating state, with his mind not exactly awake but not asleep either. He wandered in the realm of dreams. There was nothing better for him to do while he waited for Elske so he decided he might as well meditate. Camarat picked up the intentions given off by people who passed by the library. Most of them had no intention to make trouble but there was one soul who gave off a very malevolent aura. By the time Camarat understood what was about to happen, it was almost too late.

Camarat's eyes flew open, and his entire body irradiated a blue aura from his magic. The man he had picked up on was right behind Elske, a dagger in his hand. He was covered by a robe which didn't reveal anything to the eye. The only thing Camarat could pick out from his features was the muscles bulging in his arm as he tried to struggle against Camarat's magic which held it in place, inches away from Elske's exposed side. Standing up, Camarat's voice took on an icy steel edge. "Who are you, who sent you, and why are you here?" making sure to add that extra little bit of pressure on the man's arm.

Turning to Elske he cocked his head. "The fighting rings.. I do believe those were stolen. If I'm not mistaken, they were taken by a Ragdar a few years ago. Never you mind that, what do you plan on doing with this fella over here?" his entire body had taken on a hue of blue aura.

(sorry for the quality, kinda rushed o.o)


When you die, your world ends. The world may go on, but in your eyes, the world ends with you.

-Carpe Diem

[Harbor]

Elske rubbed the heels of her hands up her temples, as though that would make the burning stop. She hadn’t had to fight a temper this strong in years—her tempers these days tended to be small burns, embers flicked against her irritation, only enough to give her the desire to break a nose or an arm. This rage made her want to shatter every window in the palace, and set the library on fire. To cause damage that could not be fixed, or at least not without great and extensive effort. Effort both on her part and whoever had to clean up after her.

But that wouldn’t solve anything, and Elske wasn’t in the habit of feeding her fires. She only nudged them enough to keep her alive. For this reason she wasn’t left unguarded without Fenir’s hearing to warn her when someone slipped around behind the massive bookshelf to their left. Elske flattened her right hand on the table she’d shoved the book off of, leaning over it as though exhausted by her fruitless research, which had consumed what was left of the morning. She should probably eat something. She lined up her shoulders so she could use her bent posture to add momentum when she straightened, to throw her elbow back into his face.

Camarat beat her to it, standing with a flicker of blue wrapping around his entire body, the would-be attacker going rigid. Camarat did not appear pleased.

Elske, noting the stiffness of the man, didn’t bother stepping away from the dagger that would have found the right kidney of most other people standing in her place. Reigning in her temper yet again—though this one was of a far different breed—she closed her eyes until she could speak evenly. ”Dearest Lord Camarat, why do you absolutely insist on fighting my battles for me? I would remind you that I am supposed to be the thief.”

At least he wasn’t still sloshing magic, though she had no intention of going anywhere near him while he looked like that. To hide her face from the next theft he informed her of, she turned to their attacker and tugged his hood down, raising an eyebrow up at a face she didn’t recognize. Elske picked up the tome of records and threw it back on the table, needing both hands for the width of it. ”In answer to your previous question, as far as why I find you terrifying. It’s not because of who you are, it’s because of what you’re capable of.” She jerked her chin over her shoulder to the still-stiff assassin. ”I can’t defend myself against what you could do, regardless of whether or not you would. I find it hard to trust people I can’t fight.” Elske swallowed, surprised to find that she regretted feeling the need to tell him in such specific words why he still put her on edge, and always would. She knew how important trust was to him, particularly that of someone he had insisted spend time with him. Guilt was an awful emotion to try to force on someone, but if he continued forcing this part of himself into her life, she’d continue to use it. How could he not understand how awful it was to feel as though your life and your decisions were no longer under your own control?

Welcome back, Elske. Not so much has changed, after all.

”As for that.” She glanced blandly over the man, indistinct through his dark robe. In one swift motion Elske lifted her elbow and snapped his nose, then because he hadn’t actually inflicted any harm, she briskly straightened it back again. Lifting a dagger from her belt she cut two lengths of cloth from his hood: one to wad under his nose, and another to tie around his head to keep it there.

Patting across his waist and hips, she found no more immediate weapons, though the robes would have made them hard to reach regardless, and instead emptied the contents of his trouser pockets onto the table. A charm she didn’t recognize, a paper packet of ground chili pepper, a beaded bracelet, and a few coins. ”Not likely a professional,” she remarked, based on her findings—a professional would only carry things useful to him—”though most inepts don’t think about carrying a spice with them to either mask their own scent or to throw at the person they’re trying to off.” That was the furthest her analysis went. She could probably scrub up a little more with effort, but she found herself too tired at the moment to give it.

”Who’s Ragdar?” she asked instead, leaning with crossed arms back against the bookcase, tipping her head back and closing her eyes so she wouldn’t have to see the strange smear of blue as their only source of light, cast seemingly from Camarat’s own skin.

[Aelodil]

Camarat calmed a little to see Elske was completely unharmed. "Probably because of the fact that people already don't trust you, so if you're to be able to live a normal life then it'd be better for me to take action isn't it? Besides, I'm the senile old man." His voice had taken on a sardonic tone. Slowly but surely he calmed himself down to the point he retracted his magic aura.

"Why, you know I'd never use my magic on you. Unless of course you gave me valid reason to do so. Which I don't think you would, would you? Besides, if you really want, I could join you for a brawl with no magic. Despite how I look I am still rather muscular, you know?" the hint of a cold smile played upon his lips. He wasn't sure whether or not he really meant what he said, but now that he said it he would back it up if she actually asked him to. Turning to her, he let his expression soften down and mellow. "I do apologize if I scare you, though. If it makes you feel any better, I promise not to use my magic on you without your permission. If it comes down to it I'll try to stop you with my hands. Fair enough?" he was quite surprised she had gone so far to tell him all that.

Camarat didn't waste much time pondering on it, though he did think about it quickly in his mind though it felt like decades. He wondered how it must feel for people with no magic to be around someone who could use magic so freely, especially of his caliber. Thinking on it, Camarat realized just how helpless people could feel. Not that he meant to bully people into fear but the fact remained that that was how most people saw him, including Elske. He gave a slight shake of his head and let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. Perhaps he would have to change a little in the end.

He watched Elske curiously as she pat the man up and down. He wasn't quite sure what to expect from her at this point. Camarat wasn't surprised to hear she knew what a professional would have done. After all, she herself was a professional thief. Not that he held it against her. Hell, he could care less what someone's past choices were. If you pondered in the past too long then you'd never get anywhere. Instead, he just observed, making sure his magic kept the man held in place. He turned to him, cocking his head. He knew who Ragdar was - to an extent.

"He was the adopted son of Galbatorix.. I think that in and of itself says quite a lot. Any man the deranged king would have considered taking in as a son must have been quite messed up, don't you agree? As far as I know he currently runs the province of Dras-Leona. If it's really bothering you I could bring the records back." Camarat made sure the guilt in his voice didn't show. He had actually hidden the records himself, after witnessing the heinous acts in that ring.

The man looked up towards Camarat and they locked eyes. He could see the silent plea in his eyes. The man was terrified of him. Camarat, in turn, turned to Elske and waited for her answer instead.

When you die, your world ends. The world may go on, but in your eyes, the world ends with you.

-Carpe Diem

[Harbor]

Elske rolled her eyes and landed them on Lord Camarat. ”And you making it appear that I can’t defend myself will make people trust me? You could hold my hand and help me over puddles too, since we’re treating me like a lady now.” She rubbed her eyes again at his next statements. In truth fighting was the way she generally got to know people, but that was just because she had a far longer history of fighting than making small talk. ”Do you speak Dwarvish?” she asked at last, decidedly displeased by discussing what she considered personal matters in front of someone else. She switched languages, remembering his comment earlier on being able to understand her, and continued. ”You don’t have to physically touch someone with something to be using it on them. You are changing my life the way you swoop in and interfere with it, and since there is nothing I can do to stop you but to yell at you I find that extremely rude. Imagine if someone else constantly stood over your shoulder and took away your quills because they didn’t want you to spatter your fancy clothes with ink even knowing you were fully capable of removing the stains. Do you believe you would appreciate their ministrations?” Be kind, be kind, be kind. Normal people didn’t have to remind themselves not to verbally gut people—or attempt to—in self-defense. But even if she wondered sometimes why she even wanted to attempt to be your average human, still she made the attempt to at least act like one.

And if it ever came right down to it, and Camarat felt the need to stop Elske absolutely from whatever it was she was doing, of course she would prefer he do it with nonmagical means. But at that point they would have to be fighting with every scrap of advantage each of them had, and that meant that what each one wanted from the other would no longer be relevant. She could hate him for using magic then, but she could not fault him for it.

Elske forcibly stopped grinding her teeth. ”I would appreciate a look at the records, thank you. But the information inside isn’t life-threatening and I wouldn’t go far out of your way for it.” She deeply inhaled, forcing herself to think about Galbatorix’s motives and not Camarat’s. ”Chances are if he raised him from a child he’d then have someone almost guaranteed to worship him and side with him until death, something he likely never trusted that he had elsewhere. That’s a powerful tool mentally, if not practically. Probably made him feel justified.” Elske didn’t know much about Galbatorix personally aside from the fact that he was a despot and a problem—enough of a problem that she’d been willing to pit herself against his forces even when they were no longer causing her significant trouble herself—and now that he was dead didn’t much care to analyze his whys and wherefores.

Inhaling, Elske stepped between the frozen man and the wizard again, facing the former. ”All right, let this one go so I can put him in a proper hold.” It wasn’t fair to just keep him locked there like furniture while they talked. Especially once they switched languages. Elske hated to put someone else in the position she so loudly refused for herself, as far as the touch of Camarat’s magic went. She gripped the wrist with the blade in it and waited for Camarat to release him so she could restrain him in a more civil manner. ”If it’ll give you any comfort,” she added to Camarat, ”the guard on my right side wouldn’t be pierced by a blade this wide unless it had the momentum of a sword. I’m not a fool.”

[Aelodil]

Camarat stayed silent. He wasn't exactly sure what to say to her. Perhaps he was in the wrong. Perhaps he shouldn't constantly take matters into his own hand. Reflecting back on it he realized he did understand what she meant, and es, it was quite terrible. "No, but that means that you won't immediately resort to violence so that should make people trust you a little more." Though to himself he sounded like he was preaching a moot point. He himself didn't exactly believe what he was saying. And to Elske it must seem even worse. Camarat resolved to not intervene in other people's affairs anymore unless absolutely necessary.

With that in mind, Camarat stayed quiet after Elske argued her point. It wasn't that he didn't agree, but quite the opposite. He agreed so much he actually felt like a bad person. Especially when he realized how hard it must have been for Elske, a person who never trusted anyone other than Fenir, to tell him these things. It must've felt like peeling off the layers of an onion and become exposed. Camarat simply bowed his head slightly and remained quiet.

Though some people might have taken offense at the way Elske reprimanded them, Camarat did not feel offended in the slightest. In fact, he felt he deserved it, which he likely did. So, staying true to his resolve he remained quiet even after she said what she had to say. To occupy himself he turned to the man. He didn't think about him the same way he thought about Elske. He felt regret about the way he made Elske feel but he didn't give a second thought as to how this man must have felt. Worse still was the fact that he didn't quite care about that. Camarat wasn't sure whether or not he was a good person.

Over all those years he had intervened in all those different affairs he never thought about whether or not the people needed him to do that and how they felt about him doing it. But now he felt keen on keeping an open mind about it. CAmarat wasn't all too sure what it was about Elske that made him feel the way he did. But he didn't care because it made him realize the mistakes he had made in the past, and he was determined not to make them again.

Raising an eyebrow, he responded to her comment. "It isn't that much of a trouble to contact Ragdar. Well, to be specific, I'd be sending you to Ragdar with a letter from me stating that he must give you those records by decree of the Council. Though the means of transportation would be.. magic." Camarat felt his voice sounded like it had the faintest hints of regret in it. He hoped Elske wouldn't catch onto it.

When Elske told him to release the poor man he was, at first ,skeptical, but realized it would help calm her down a little. Waiting for her to get in place, he released the man from his magic and stemmed all the magic from himself. Elske was left carrying the man, who was limp in her arms much the same how he was limp when Camarat had used his magic. Though, Camarat didn't respond to her comment about the guard on her right side. He didn't feel this topic should be approached anymore than it already had been.

(Again, sorry, muse for Camarat kinda dying out )

When you die, your world ends. The world may go on, but in your eyes, the world ends with you.

-Carpe Diem

[Harbor]

Elske’s brows came together at his words, baffled. ”Why should I encourage people to trust me?” The only person whose trust she felt she needed any of was his, but that was because she still felt threatened by his capabilities. To her knowledge the queen wasn’t magical, so at most she could imprison her or send her away—that was not threatening. The average person walking down the hall could offer her little more than your average challenge. And the Rider and his dragon had better things to do than even know she existed. Trust was at most a tool, and at best a commodity. And at worst it was an awful lot of work for something very easy to lose.

Her head snapped up at the return of her least favorite topic. ”Oh bloody hell, why?” she demanded, voice hinting into a whine. She supposed it was a mark of how far she was trying to come that she didn’t automatically say ”You will not,” instead. ”Do all the horses in the land shy away from his manor or something? And if he’s the son of the despot why is he still alive? Or at least free?” Seemed an awfully precarious position to her, and not one she’d have bothered risking. Unless she’d simply pegged Ragdar wrong and he’d not been as pleased by his royal position as she’d assumed he would have been. ”How far is it on foot?” She’d never ridden before, and would prefer to run, but would ride if she had to. The records weren’t getting any further away. ”And why must it be me?” If magic absolutely had to be involved. She did prefer to solve her own problems, and getting away from the palace sounded like a welcome reprieve, but leaving the palace because she was on an official errand sounded far less enjoyable—it meant there would be rules to bind her hands and parameters for her to blindly follow. It meant she had to represent other people, and that other people would be for whatever reasons relying on her ability not to maim the people who impeded her.

Although she had been doing better, on that front. Only a few sprains to hands and arms, and bruises to fragile prides, had been the results of her recent disputes. She had promised Camarat to attempt not to kill or maim anyone while she was here, and he hadn’t considered her deep irritation a valid need which could be assuaged by killing or maiming. But that was probably just as well.

Having expected the man to fight back when released from Camarat’s spell, Elske wasn’t prepared for his weight to slump into her—apparently magic was tiring on the end of the recipient. Or perhaps when the recipient was fighting it, as indubitably he had been. But Elske swiftly relieved him of his knife, sliding it across the table behind her, slid a foot back to brace herself and bound his hands behind him with a bit of leather string before propping him up against the foot of the table where he wasn’t likely to be an immediate inconvenience. At least not for a while. She turned back to Camarat, scowling still about the potential use of magic on her person, and crossed her arms, wondering how much she wanted the records, and whether she’d consider her findings worthwhile once she had them.

And thus roughly a week later she attempted to clear the extremely vexed—hiding the extremely panicked—expression from her face as she let herself into Camarat’s study, Fenir (who had been with Camarat while she dressed), rushing to her side. She’d spent hours rubbing her brow with a local tailor as they worked out how to make her a tunic and leggings that appeared fancy but allowed her just as much mobility as her own preferred clothes. At last the tailor had accomplished something even Elske was grudgingly pleased by, and now she wore a deep blue tunic with a collar, sparse but neat embroidery, and her hair sewn into a small bun on top of her head. Even with shorter russet hairs straggling about her face she hoped the effect would be one of someone who at least somewhat cared about their appearance and would wish not to inflict damage upon it. Her intent was to look as harmless as possible, but to accomplish that she had to forgo her larger weapons—her staff and any long daggers—in favor of only a pair of smaller knives that could merely be for eating or nail-trimming, and she had to somehow construct an expression that didn’t so clearly reveal her deep desire to inflict harm on anyone who dared to look her too long in the eyes. It wasn’t true anger, but a veneer over her fear, but anger was easier for her to manhandle than what it hid beneath it.

”What can I expect from him?” she asked Camarat of Ragdar. ”What does he look like?” And how would she return here, assuming he didn’t want her to return in any manner that she preferred, which would be anything not involving magic.

Too soon Elske and Fenir found themselves in Dras-Leona province, Elske sucking in air in an attempt to clear the miasma of gray from her vision, leaning on Fenir to keep her balance because she’d held her breath for too long, and Fenir perfectly content now that his paws were back on solid ground. Elske took a last breath, hoping Camarat had had the decency to leave them somewhere without a crowd, cleared her face and marched forward, Fenir pressed to her right side.

[Aelodil]

((So do I start with Ragdar now?))

When you die, your world ends. The world may go on, but in your eyes, the world ends with you.

-Carpe Diem

[Harbor]

((Not sure if you saw my chatbox reply, but I'd say yes, if that's what works best for you.))

[Aelodil]

Yo fam, if yer still alive keep me updated

When you die, your world ends. The world may go on, but in your eyes, the world ends with you.

-Carpe Diem

[Aelodil]

Yawning, Ragdar covered his mouth. A little performance of etiquette that had been drilled into him since he was so young it had become as habit as breathing had to him. He was wearing the robe he had earned as the Elder for the Fire Branch with a simple chain suit of armor beneath it along with trousers studded with beautiful rubies that contained extra energy. Arucane was sheathed and in his hand. Though he had finally managed to calm down the province he had become the Lord of, he did not put it beyond any of his rivals to have him assassinated in his own home.

Granted, he expected Aelodil to be a little above that. Odds are if he truly wished him dead, his cousin would come after him himself rather than send anyone else in his stead. Clarissa and Reru, however.. he knew for a fact Clarissa would not hesitate to poison every supply of food or water that so much as entered his manor, disregarding who would die beside him and not lose any sleep. Reru, however, he was not so sure. His brother and he had, at one point, shared a loving relationship. All that ended, however, when Ragdar decided to break free from Galbatorix's clutches a few months before his "father" was murdered.

After all, that was what it was; murder. Simple. Though he had it coming, there was no dying that what Eragon had done was cold blooded murder. All the more reason Ragdar respected the young man, though he had never met him. The knowledge of what you must do and the ability to do it were two very different things. Knowing that Eragon had had what it took to do what was necessary, Ragdar could not, in honesty, say he did not respect him.

All this went through his mind as he strode out his manor, jerking his head in polite acknowledgement to the men and women who hailed and saluted him. Both his Eldunari remained in their invisible socket behind him, though neither made any inclination to say anything. Instead it was Lenora, who was wrapped around his manor giving it the look of being surrounded by rubies, that said, "Good morning, Ragdar." In her gentle yet strong voice that always brought a smile to his face.

As it were, Ragdar's face twitched into a smile, the scars still running from his throat on the right all the way down to his right hand. It was this rare smile that caused many of the servants in his manor to take a moment to wonder what was about. They were not used to Ragdar being in a good mood. "Good morning to you too, Lenora. Though if you wish to continue sleeping then by all means, go ahead." he responded, meaning it though he would rarely, if ever, allow such tardiness to anyone who worked with or for him.

Completely expecting Lenora to refuse and insist that she accompany him, she surprised him by saying, "I think I will do that. I had a tiring night teaching the youngsters from the Fire Branch." Then drifted away from him, back to the confines of her mind as she drifted into a wistful sleep.

Keeping the smile on his face, Ragdar walked out of his manor. The sun was high up, casting long shadows everywhere, especially considering the buildings everywhere. Despite the heat from the sun, there was a soothing and calming breeze that cooled him but not to the point of making him feel truly cold. His footsteps rang out on the stone streets as he walked with a faked sense of purpose.

It happened so quickly, that he wasn't sure if he had imagined it. But there, out of nowhere, he had seen a flash of light followed by the appearance of a woman. If he didn't know any better he'd think it nothing, but that was quite clearly magic. And some magic it was. The user must have been a Rider. Or elf, for that matter. He shuddered to think who else it could have been. Rather than freak, he walked forward towards the woman while he reached out to sense the origin of the magic. It did not take him long to trace it, then feel it. It was Camarat, that he was certain of. As to why the ancient Wizard wanted anything from him, he had no idea. Rather than let this woman know that, he walked up to her and asked, his voice gruff but not rude, "I don't mean to shove into your life, but I am quite curious to know why or how you were teleported here. Don't bother telling me by whom you were teleported. I already know who it is. It's quite hard to miss a magical trace from someone who has already lived over a thousand years. The name is Ragdar, by the way. Lord of Dras-Leona and Elder of the Fire Branch."

When you die, your world ends. The world may go on, but in your eyes, the world ends with you.

-Carpe Diem

[Harbor]

Elske had wondered how Camarat’s magic would feel to her, in comparison with other magics she’d had the misfortune to touch, though those were few. She could remember quite clearly her opinions of the magic that had brought her down and kept her there while her ribs were cut away one by one. She could remember the light touch Camarat had given her in the prison yards to stop her nose from bleeding, among a few other ‘minor’ things. But, as she permitted his magic to move her entire body from one place to another, she determined that magic would always feel like an invasion to her—it didn’t matter who wielded it.

Elske had debated long and hard over whether or not to bring Fenir with her. She’d even permitted Camarat in on some of her debates. After discovering that Ragdar could use magic, she’d instinctively wanted to leave Fenir behind. However, because Ragdar could use magic, she knew she would be even more vulnerable to him, and also wanted Fenir’s assistance. In the end she left him behind, much to his discontent, she was sure. When it came down to risking Fenir’s life and risking the loss of the documents she wanted, Fenir was more valuable to her. He always would be. He was the only thing left she loved.

The moment her feet left the rug in his office, Elske wanted to vomit. The second her feet settled onto what felt like cobbles, her intentions of appearing as noble and reserved as possible were shredded, because there was nothing she could do but put her hands on her knees and throw up on the ground before her. She appeared to be in an alley, of some sort—the air smelled stale, unstirred. Not many people went this way. But she could hear a busier street at the next nearest corner. She’d asked Camarat to drop her somewhere unobvious, and it appeared he had succeeded.

The voice behind her made her recoil, and she immediately put out a hand between them, as though to stop his approach. Well, her plan for appearing reserved and collected had already been torn to pieces by her arrival, so she might as well hold the door for it on its way out. Time for a different plan of approach.

Elske turned to face the man—his own appearance reeked of nobility—straightened her spine and the straps of the small satchel on her back, and scowled up at him. Her eyes flicked across the rich dye of the robe, the sparkle in his trousers, the gleam of the sheathed sword in his hand—did he plan on putting that sheath on his hip, or did he prefer just to carry it around? She could hear the faint clink of chainmail beneath the robe, and resisted the urge to snort.

It seemed appearing without the notice of others had gone as wrong as it could be. Nice to meet you, Ragdar, Lord of Somewhere and Elder of Something she didn’t care about. Not bothering now to attempt to avoid crumples, Elske stuck her hand under the angled collar of her tunic and yanked out the letter from Misha, sticking the creased envelope out toward him. ”Elske,” she introduced, never thinking it possible that random strangers from way over here might ever have heard her name. She’d mostly been a stranger to the rest of the world for the majority of her life; why would they? The hubbub over her recent ‘promotion’ never crossed her mind. ”Mistress of Irritation and Elder of Frustration. My master sends this.” She didn’t bother to smooth her accent into the voice of the nobles, which she’d been affecting for the last several weeks since coming back to the palace. There was no point to it anymore here. So she let her voice curl back into its more comfortable pattern of speaking the way the peasants did, the way she had grown up speaking.

With an irritated yank to accent her opinion of having been sent here like a parcel, Elske straightened her tunic as well, and brushed off the thighs of her dark trousers. The sour taste still in her mouth from her recent offering to the cobblestones wanted a long douse of water, but she figured she’d leave him or lead him away for a drink later on, if she had to spend that much time in his presence. She knew from listening to Camarat’s and others’ conversations that gemstones could hold magic, so the sight of his red-stone-studded trousers did nothing to soften her expression. Now she wondered why Camarat would ever think she could overtake him; magical people didn’t fight physically. They fought a fight she could never win.

Well, at least Fenir was in good hands. Elske swallowed the sour taste again and waited for him to read the letter and reply.

{Wait so if Camarat actually hid the documents, what did he send Elske here to get? This could go very badly for Elske and Camarat’s ‘relationship’. Most intriguing.}

[Aelodil]

Ragdar eyed the woman who introduced herself as Elske rather warily. She could be harmless, or she could very well be an experienced warrior or thief. He never would put it past a woman to be an experienced fighter. After all, one of his favorite sparring partners was a woman. Granted she was a Spartan, so she had a much stronger body than most humans without any extra honing. Nonetheless, he would not simply assume because someone was a woman that they were not worthy of his attention beyond anything of sights of beauty.

Though he was wary of her, he was not wary to the point of truly being frightened. He would treat her like he would any other man he considered a threat. Granted, that still was not quite much as he rarely ever respected any man he had met who turned out to be a fighter as he saw himself far above almost every fighter, and for good reason. So it was this mindset that had him reaching for her paper without revealing any of the calculations going on through his mind.

Rather than strap Arucane to his hip in order to open the paper, he used his teeth to rip it open while holding it with his other hand. Opening it revealed little he did not already suspect. She was sent, almost indirectly, by Camarat. As it were, it seemed that the ancient Wizard did not stop causing him trouble, even now that they were leagues away from one another and not entirely opposing the other. Folding the paper, he pocketed it and eyed the woman. If Camarat trusted her enough to teleport her to him personally then it must be something important and he doubted he could get away with brushing her off, though he wanted to.

The same smile he had had earlier rushed to his face as Elske continued. She clearly did not understand his titles, but her sarcasm was much appreciated. Though he would normally slap somebody for the insolence, he could not help but find it amusing how little she seemed to show respect for titles. Rather than reprimand her, he said, "Come. I will not have your breath smell of regurgitated food like a baby. I'll request my servants bring you something to wash down what remains in your throat while I find the records you desire."

Turning around, he strode back to his manor. Though his expression and body language betrayed nothing he was quite curious and more than a little intrigued. Why did Camarat care so much for the records he had stolen? Or was it for the sake of this woman? He toyed with that thought for a few more seconds and would have disregarded it had he not known Camarat. The ancient old man had more than his fair full of a sentimental side. Though, he had never seen Camarat with this woman since he had last seen the Wizard a few months ago. He was confused. Would Camarat truly come to trust someone he had just recently met enough to send them on such an important errand and give them access to those documents?

Striding back into his manor with a confident stride, to the point of arrogance, but with thoughts still swirling in his mind, he snapped at one of the servants. A little boy no more than thirteen years of age. "Go fetch the lady a variety of drinks and perhaps a fruit platter." His voice gruff and down to point but not unkind. He refused to mistreat his servants. So long as they did their job properly on a normal basis, he could overlook a few shortcomings or, even, sometimes, outright refusal to obey him.

Gesturing to his chambers, which were lavishly decorated with an enormous bed in the middle as well as a variety of different gems, mainly ruby, encrusted in multiple different parts. He didn't quite trust this woman to not steal anything, but then he could just check her mind before she left to be certain. "Stay there. Don't steal anything, though you can relax." This time, a hint of steel crept into his voice. He had no love for thieves.

Turning, he walked straight to where he hid most the records in his possession and surfed through them 'til he found the one he was looking for. Rather than head straight back, however, he frowned. The woman had seemed more than a little familiar to him, though he could not put his finger to it. Shrugging, he brought the records she had asked for, though still a little puzzled. He threw it onto his massive bed and gestured for her to do as she pleased, though with a stern look to make sure she didn't ruin anything. While he waited, he sat down on a chair he had decorated more than lavishly. It was an armchair like no other. The arms were constructed of some of the best wood in Du Weldenvarden with more than a fair share of gold embedded in the hollow with a swirling pattern. The chair itself was made of pure obsidian with rubies encrusted towards the head. And so sitting in it, he set Arucane horizontally upon his lap as he eyed this woman, Elske.

(No, as in Camarat felt responsible for the loss of the documents as he had hid them in the castle when Ragdar sole them)

When you die, your world ends. The world may go on, but in your eyes, the world ends with you.

-Carpe Diem

[Harbor]

Seriously, what was Ragdar, Master and Elder, still doing with his sword just hanging in his hand? Elske tried never to have anything pointlessly in hand. It meant she had to drop or throw things if people felt the need to encroach on her space. Maybe he was afraid it would run away. That was the problem with enchanted weapons people loved to brag about—you’d taken something predictable and given it wiles. Wasn’t that what men most hated in women? What made them want it in a weapon?

Elske suppressed a burp with the back of her hand, feeling strangely at peace with pretending to be someone closer to who she felt she actually was. No more of the pomp and circumstance of the feckless, foolheaded nobility, so convinced of the power in their commands that they forgot how easily commands could be ignored. Elske had yet to meet a noble she genuinely liked. There had been a few she’d worked for—housekeeping and such, since in the winter it was easier to find a live-in job than sleep in the snow—who had not been awful. But she’d felt no inclination to return to visit them once the season was over.

Smiles unnerved her. Elske tried not to think about his. And by how much he likely outweighed her. At any rate, at least he was human. Human beings—even those endowed with magic—still frightened her far less than certain other races.

His suggestion that she smelled infantile amused her—was she not at least twice his age?—but she tucked most of her smile away, not wanting him to find her too flippant, or he’d be less likely to give her what she wanted. But thus far it sounded like he had no intentions of telling her to shove off, then chasing her with a storm of spells, so thus far, even counting the unplanned circumstances, their meeting was already going better than planned.

With most Elske would have had a quick retort for anyone who called her a lady, but even a truculent assistant would know better than to snark at a thus-far polite nobleman. Even if she did think he was a regular human, magicless, like most of them. Elske would also normally refuse to enter the chambers of anyone else, their private space not being a place she felt any need to be, but since Lord and Elder Ragdar marched right in then kept walking through to another spot, she felt she had little choice but to follow, if she wished to continue playing the relatively compliant assistant.

She stopped right inside the door though, her shoulder blades pressing against it. In part because of the reasons he hadn’t wanted to enter in the first place. In part because while unschooled in any life resembling luxury, she could not imagine a more flamboyantly expensive place as this.

There were gems in his chair for crying out loud. As attractive as it was, surely it was in no way comfortable? And wasn’t that just the point of a chair? To be more comfortable? How the nobility got to be the leading class she couldn’t imagine; they didn’t seem to have a firm grasp on their own priorities.

”Don’t steal anything….” Lord Ragdar said before continuing on.

At this Elske couldn’t resist a single raised eyebrow, and as bland a response as she could muster. ”My Lord, why would my master waste the time in sending me to speak with a noble if he suspected I would steal from him?” Truly, why bother even telling her? Most thieves wouldn’t be deterred just by being reminded that what they were about to do was illegal. Truly though, the level of logic in the heads of most nobility left a great deal to be desired.

A great deal to be desired. Elske had tried and tried to ignore the information of who had raised this man, as she never wanted to be reminded of his father, under any circumstances. Every difficulty Elske had ever had stemmed from Galbatorix’s interference in her own father’s life, his machinations of her father’s actions and deeds, how he’d raised his own children. It helped that Lord Ragdar shared no true blood with Galbatorix, that Lord Ragdar looked nothing like him. But there were other things to resemblance than merely bone structure and the color of one’s eyes. There was the tilt of one’s shoulders, angled with arrogance; the superior light to one’s hooded eyes; the sweep with which one swaggered; the blunt drawl with which one spoke.

Ragdar returned, and instead of giving her the documents, only tossed them on the bed one could stage an entire ball upon, and took a seat in the extravagant, blinding armchair. Elske straightened from where she’d been leaning against the door, sour about having to cross his bedchamber for her documents, but was prevented from having to do so just yet by the return of the boy Ragdar had ordered to fetch refreshments. On one hand he balanced a tray with a pitcher and two glasses, and on the other a tray with a crystal bowl of fruits.

Elske could handle fighting two-handed, but balancing two different trays lay outside her circle of talents. ”Thank you,” she told him, taking the trays from him and setting them on a nearby table, as though not knowing what she was supposed to be doing with them. In truth she’d spent time in noble houses both to avoid the cold and to learn how things were done there. She sniffed the pitcher and filled both of the glasses, then walked to within Ragdar’s reach and extended one. If he didn’t want it she’d just drink both.

Elske sipped from her own glass and walked to his bed, setting her glass down on the way and slipping her satchel from her shoulders. ”I appreciate you taking the time to find this,” she said, leaving the satchel open on the bed as she opened the folder, eyes flicking over the sharp cuts of random words, attempting to ensure that this was at the very least a document related to the ones she sought, not just one he was attempting to pass off as the one Camarat had asked for. Then she tied it shut again and shook it carefully into her satchel. It took Elske five minutes to read a single page of text, but the average word on the average page was usually one she understood. Her father had taught her and her sister to read, but it was a skill that, as peasants, they’d rarely used. Once she’d left home she’d rarely used it afterward either. It, too, lay outside her talents. ”I understand you must be a busy man.” One whom she must now escape. ”And I know you have a number of other responsibilities.”

{When Elske needs to go back to Camarat, how does she arrange for that?}

[Aelodil]

Ragdar had noted the expression on Elske's face when she entered his room. Most would chalk it down to the fact that the woman meant mischief. Ragdar realized it as a look that blandly said he had more money than he had sense. After finally settling down on his chair, he gave a ghost of a smile and said, "Yes, indeed, this chair is quite uncomfortable. That is, to an extent, the point. It is to remind me of how heavy my burdens are, both past and current. In the past I slaughtered hundreds, thousands even, some innocent, others not, under command of my foster parent Galbatorix. Now I bear the responsibility of this Province as well as a Branch for the Riders. And the reason I told you not to steal wasn't that I expected you to listen. It was just so that if you did steal, I would have given you fair prior warning. That way if I noticed you stole, I could punish you however I saw fit and Camarat would not be allowed to so much as tap a drop of the ocean of power he holds to punish me in kid." This time his voice lost all politeness. It flared like the fire in his soul. He was not the most brilliant, yes, however he knew more than enough to recognize Elske's train of thoughts and he did not quite appreciate it.

Slightly surprised at the small show of courtesy, Ragdar took the glass from her with a jerk of his head to let her know he appreciated it before taking a deep swig. Setting his glass down on a nearby table which was made of pure glass, including the legs, he stood up and eyed Elske.

Rather than attempting to appear intimidating, Ragdar was inspecting her. He could have sworn having see her before. Waving aside her apologies, as he recognized she was merely offering the basic courtesy of conversation, he shook his head at her, this time a real smile on his lips. It was quite a sight. Some would call it terrifying. Others would call it flat out disgusting. Others, those who had ever loved him as they were few, would call it beautiful and refreshing. "Not at all, you are in luck. I have little to nothing that must be accomplished today. Not at this current time, anyway. No, I think I'd rather we had a quick chat. Assuming you have nothing else you must hurry to do? I would assume not, as Camarat seemed to be in no hurry with the letter that he addressed me with." His voice carried out as he walked to his bed and shrugged off his robes, revealing the chain suit beneath it which bulged with the muscles that he had spent years honing and his father had spent much that time enhancing with his magic.

Though he did not care to cow the woman, as he doubted that would get him anywhere, he did not exactly want her slipping out. So he snapped his fingers to signal one of the guards outside his chambers and flicked his hand towards the large door, letting him know he wanted them closed. After the guard bowed and exited the chambers, closing the doors behind him, Ragdar finally let his sword drop onto his bed.

"Now.. I daresay I'm quite curious. Camarat and I never got along, not entirely, but he did not seem the kind of man foolish enough to trust someone he practically did not know with something of this importance. Not to mention, I daresay I have seen you before.. during Galbatorix's reign.." He cut off, drifting in thought.

"You have seen here, Ragdar. That week you spent in the rings as punishment. Both you and Reru, along with that youngster. Do you not recall?" Lenora's beautiful voice rang in his mind as he brought up the memory he had been searching for.

Ragdar practically visibly flinched. He recalled that week. Peak among the horrors during that time was fighting a beast with two others who wanted him dead with nothing but fists as weapons. Then he remembered seeing this woman, Elske, in the rings. Sometimes fighting, sometimes in the cells. His head snapped to her swiftly and his eyes widened in recognition. The terrible burns he had sustained a few months ago appeared now as angry scars, running from his right half of his neck all the way down to his right hand in a random pattern. "Elske.. that's why you seem familiar. You were in the rings, weren't you? That's why you want these documents.. and that must be why Camarat allowed you to go for them. Oh, the old man is too sentimental. You must have been there for good reason. Sit, sit, and have a chat. And do not even think about bolting for it. I would not stoop so low as to use magic against someone who could not, but my body is not for show." He then sat himself back down on the bed as he waited her response.

{What I'm thinking is Lenora probably alerts Camarat before it gets too heated and Camarat then teleports her back. Granted, she probably won't appreciate it much but it'll help. Of course, he'll have Lenora warn her to hold onto the satchel she had brought along before going}

When you die, your world ends. The world may go on, but in your eyes, the world ends with you.

-Carpe Diem

[Harbor]

Elske didn’t at first take much significance from his agreement on the discomfort of the chair. It was a pretty metaphor, she supposed; but she’d thought about the same of the chair for the dwarven king. Metaphors, in her mind, had little genuine purpose in a tangible world.

But then she realized she’d never spoken that observation aloud. She had only thought of it.

Several other thoughts hastily clotted through her abruptly slogged mind. If he could read her mind, then she had to become the person she was pretending to be—not much of a stress. But now that she’d thought it there was every possibility he already saw through her façade. Thus why bother? But her mind was her own, her own, no man should ever feel he had the right to wander there, no matter how he arrived. Then, did she remark on her knowledge of what he’d done, try to formulate some response to suggest he would find nothing of use if he dug further, continued his observation? Or simply pretend she hadn’t noticed? Play the simpleton, the person who was not a threat.

But there was always now the possibility that he had just eavesdropped on every word she’d thought, and every piece of what she’d thought she had to protect herself was gone.

Elske heaved a sigh, wishing, not for the first time by a long stretch, that magic did not exist. Wretch, she thought to herself. Her privacy was all she had left, and he sought to chip that away too. So much for trying to be human.

She shrugged. ”I’d have thought a basic understanding of sentient laws would be enough, but perhaps I spend too much time around intelligent people.” Enough warning, that was. One did not have to introduce themselves and promptly tell their new associate not to murder them—why bother cautioning one away from theft?

She tried to avoid the dark light in his leer. Satisfied people unnerved her—she could never predict what they intended to do next, since they already believed they had everything they wanted, and she did not yet know what those things were. To his question of her time, she merely tipped her head toward the window to eye the placement of the sun. ”The wizard has his duties and I have mine. I got other errands to run too.” However she supposed she could spare a minute. She had what she wanted. Running now would only prompt him to give chase.

Elske resisted curling her lip with distaste as he tossed the robe over his bed, then outright recoiled when the guards outside closed his chamber doors. She had no intention of being locked in here with this man. Besides, this was not the manner with which an honest man treated any messenger, regardless of his opinions of her. Judging that any messenger would be suspicious of the closed doors, Elske put her back to him to stride to the doors and press the handle.

She hoped someday soon a donkey would stuff Ragdar’s curiosity up his ass. ”Camarat and I never got along….”

”Join the club,” she muttered, marching to the window next and sticking her head and shoulders out, judging the risks if she were to use this particular hole as an exit. ”Galbatorix’s reign was not that long ago,” she said disinterestedly, pulling her head back in with pursed lips. ”And I’ve no memory for faces. At any rate, the records-keeper plans to make the records part of the public knowledge, or some such.” She had no idea what the records-keeper intended to do with them, but couldn’t imagine why airing Galbatorix’s laundry now would be such a harmful thing to do. What great sensitivity could there possibly be in these records, except to people with sensitive stomachs?

”You were in the rings….”

Her throat went hard and dry. She ground her teeth, looked at the ground, and let him say his piece. Despite giving him no more trust than she gave the average human, she didn’t take him at his word on refraining from using magic. As for his body, in a contained space like this, his only advantage would be throwing her against walls or furniture. She was smaller—she’d navigate better. Besides, as she’d told someone she’d already forgotten the name of, she hadn’t been bested by a human without the aid of magic in years.

At last Elske lifted her gaze, hard like scratched glass. ”Yes, I was in the rings. Yes, Camarat is sentimental. But I am not. I do what I’m told because I don’t want to find out what happens if I don’t. Of course I was there for good reason—my father made a name for himself talking off on Galbatorix. The dead king thought I’d be a good punishment.”

Elske drifted away from the window, as though making her disinterest in leaping from it clearer, but didn’t bother taking a seat. Sitting inhibited quick and versatile reactions. She would not knowingly give herself a vulnerability in the proximity of this man. People who wanted—for whatever reason—to spend time with her were a dangerous sort, particularly when they knew from where she’d come. She gave him a wicked smile even she hadn’t expected—entertainment of any sort didn’t come naturally to her. But the luxury he’d surrounded himself with, the physique he was so very proud of, it all amused her when set against the momentary discomfort she’d been lucky to catch in his face before. ”Did’y enjoy the rings? They’re good for making a man a fast survivor or a fast corpse, eh?” And men studded in gemstones such as those he wore like badges of honor, they tended to die the fastest down there. They weren’t accustomed to the stench, the filth, the darkness. Peasants nearly always survived longer than those inflicted with nobility; they were accustomed to struggling to survive on a regular basis to begin with. Fighting with fists was just a different way to defend their lives than they were accustomed to. Purposefully, Elske turned her back to him, inspecting the makings of the smooth walls and furnishings. ”A great place to learn.”

Of course, the rings hadn’t been the only source of learning in the lower dungeons. They hadn’t been the only source of enforced education. But if no one had found the evidence of the other teachings, she had heard none of their disgust yet. Let them hold onto their comfort. She wouldn’t begrudge them not having to know. Sometimes Elske was ashamed of what she knew how to do to a body to prompt its mouth to make audible the information held in its mind, but she couldn’t honestly say the knowledge hadn’t served its purpose, now and again. She just sometimes wished she’d never had to know how useful it could be.

{Sounds like a plan.}