empty halls sing a hollow fall

What see you in the horizon's bruised smear That cannot be blotted out By your raised hand? Deas Uef | King of Trolian | | Green Magic |

[deasuef]

Are there any traditions for Trolian marriages?

I can’t think of anything in particular that the other cultures don’t have, no. I haven’t been to that many weddings in general, though, so I’m most likely not the best person to ask this question in the first place.

There’s a lot of dancing at the afterparty, however. A whole lot of it. Possibly too much; on several memorable occasions people had to be taken away to the healers’. The rest of the attendees, meanwhile, just danced on.

[maia-fortuin]

Friendly Faces || Maia & Deas

[maia-fortuin]

Maia felt a strange blush in her face when the King offered his condolences without much of a show of emotion. It was not embarrassment or even affection – but a cold dread that she had said far too much to the wrong person. However, she could also not fight a distinct pride in herself for her boldness of confronting his hypocrisy in the face of her fear. As the king elaborated on how his thoughts on Dark Souls had changed over the years, Maia’s heart started to race with some hope that in this cold place, perhaps she had found a friendly face in this waking nightmare. However, that hope quickly fell as he continued, more dramatic for its sudden loss as he explicitly declared Maia as his enemy. Though it seemed this King was eager to find peace, he did not consider her kind ‘safe.’ All things considered, it was not the worst news – but somehow, from his earlier kindness she had been expecting more. It seemed she was a fool. Miss June had been right – though this king did not want to see her dead, he would always see her as separate – different – as he would see all the children determined to be of her kin that would be forced to leave their homes for his people’s ‘safety.’ Maia looked up at the king and tried to sound as grateful for his concessions of peace, but inside she felt a dull ache from the effort, “I understand. I hope for peace as well.” She bowed respectfully, “If there is nothing else Sir… I am sure you have more urgent duties than to speak to a prisoner.”

[deasuef]

He had said something wrong, Deas realized with a sinking feeling. Whatever understanding might have been building up between the two of them came crashing down before he’d even shut his mouth -- Karadas had been right, when he’d said that Deas should leave the important kind of talking to others. 

With a sigh, he rubbed a hand across his eyes, then watched Maia with an all too wary expression. He’d spoken too much from his heart, of course, and that was not fitting for a kind. His own beliefs and concerns should only come into play when they directly served to further the situation, and here, with the young Mancer, they had been out of place.

“Of course, Miss Fortuin. Though I did hope that this visit might give the both of us a different perspective on things.” Deas returned her bow with a tired nod, then made for the door. After signalling the guard outside he turned back around to Maia, and said, “If there’s anything you should need, please notify the guards outside. Unless it’s a weapon or the like, they will be happy to provide it for you.” 

He was about to leave it at that, when, with a stray glance, he recalled the bloody fox she had sketched onto the stones. The poor girl. “Perhaps, Miss Fortuin, as one last gesture of goodwill. Pen, paper -- I assume you can write, and quite well, too. I cannot vouch for you being able to send them, political circumstances being what they are, but: I would provide you with both, if you would like. To write letters, and to hopefully give you some distraction from your stay here.” When he saw no immediate disapproval on her face, he nodded to himself. “Good. They will be here tomorrow, at the latest, and should you require anything else -- my previous words still stand. Please. I know you will not be terribly comfortable, but I hope the remainder of your time here will be at least somewhat more pleasant than what came before.”

With that he turned and left, and by the time he had returned to his quarters, he was already halfway through a drafted letter to the Demonlord.

End.

[maia-fortuin]

Friendly Faces || Maia & Deas

[maia-fortuin]

Maia stared at the King with fascination as he laid hands on her to help her to her feet. But nothing compared her to the surprise at his words. Wasn’t the whole point of the war that his people wanted her and her kind to die? This could be some kind of Knight trick, but she could not help but see the sincerity and kindness in his eyes being so close to his face. She could only stammer, “Sir…?” Maia heard Deas’s report on her sword and felt a sudden overwhelming feeling of relief. It was not at her side, but it was safe – and she had the King’s word for it. Still, though he assured her she should not worry every action he had up till this point confused her so much, she just had to ask him about his kindness – but how to ask? Maia took a step back from him, and started to fiddle with her fingers. Finally, she got the courage to speak. She spoke slowly, but only partially managed to keep the fear out of her “Umm… Sir… I do not mean to offend, but when I was a child, I was raised without my mother or my family – my father raised me and told me we could not return to our homeland – here – because I was born in a way that made men fear me. When I told him I was not fearful, he said he knew that, but few people did… When I was six, men tortured him to death because he refused to let them kill me – when he did not betray me, they burned my village to the ground and killed everyone I had ever known…” Maia turned to him, a slight glow of the stars on her skin, “I know it may be rude to ask, but I must know… how is it the King of the Goodlands does not wish me to die?”

[deasuef]

Deas watched her closely, moved by the intensity of her emotions that made her magic show herself. “My condolences for your losses,” Deas said quietly. He was unsure of how to deal with Maia’s revelation about her family, but thankfully, she quickly moved on from it and didn’t put him on the spot by virtue of loss of words. Her fate -- and her father’s -- was terrible, and it was exactly this sort of thing Deas wanted to put a stop to. 

“As to your question. Well, Miss, when I was young I was told that all Dark Souls were terrible monsters who would eat my heart the moment I came within their reach, and that it was the king’s duty to protect his people from such dangers,” he replied with a faintly amused smile. “As you can see, the thing’s we’re told as children aren’t necessarily so black and white as they seem at the time. Nevertheless, you’re right, it does not change the fact that we are still enemies. As king I also have to uphold my duty to keep my people safe -- now, the obvious solution to both of those problems would, naturally, be for me to kill each and every single one of you Dark Souls indiscriminately. Until there is no one left alive to threaten the people under my protection, and that would be that.”

As history had shown for the last handful of centuries, however, that plan of attack had worked about as well as throwing stones at a castle would have any effect at all. “I am not, however, a supporter of needless killing. And there is another way -- if there were peace between the Cold North and the Goodlands, my people would be safe and no more would have to die. “And that’s my plan, Miss Fortuin. I will bring this war to an end not through conflict, but through goodwill and peace.”

It was much too idealistic to ever actually, Deas knew that. Yet it was a good starting point nevertheless, and he hoped that with enough perseverance they could at least reach an acceptable point.

[maia-fortuin]

Friendly Faces || Maia & Deas

[maia-fortuin]

Maia flinched when the King spoke so intensely. He seemed aware of the startling tone of his voice, however, and took a step back. This comforted Maia somewhat. When he told her of the other captive knight and the possibility of a prisoner exchange, though, Maia practically squeaked with excitement. It would be a shame to lose a potentially valuable captive of the knights – but she couldn’t help but feel overjoyed at the possibility of returning home without her friends having to risk their lives over her mistake. Deas then noted how the trade was dependent on her staying in her prison cell and her fears returned anew. His words reminded her of how fragile the hope he had given her was – What if the other knight died in his cell? What if the other knight was rescued while she waited here patiently for this so-called trade that never came? What if her friends tried to rescue her without her consent and failed – or even worse, died in the attempt? What if this was all some wicked Knight trick to achieve some sort of nefarious goal? The shear dependency on the numerous things out of her control caused Maia to begin to shake and refresh her tears anew. By the time the King asked her if her situation was acceptable, Maia had no idea what to say. Of course this was not acceptable – she didn’t want to accept any of this – what she wanted was to go home. Maia began to glow somewhat from the stress, but kept herself still. She did not want to appear threatening to the king. “I…I… I will accept this.” She stammered. Then suddenly, Maia’s hands flew to her right side, and then to her mouth in abject horror, “My… my sword… my father’s sword…!” Had she really been so distraught she had not noticed it was missing? Maia’s eyes frantically searched around her cell for that object that was as familiar to her as her own arms – before reality set in. Maia wrapped her hands around her body to keep herself from flying apart with the enormity of the loss. She then dropped to her knees in supplication to the king, “I know I am but a dog to you Sir Deas, but if you have any mercy and this trade is not to be… please bury me with my father’s sword.”

[deasuef]

Any hope Deas might have had that this conversation would find a happy ending vanished when the Mancer all but burst into tears again at his words. Gods beyond, why was this so difficult? With a frustrated frown Deas bent over, catching Maia by the shoulders and dragging her back up into a standing position. “You are not going to die here! I am--” Deas paused, unsure of how to continue. “I am not my brother, Miss Fortuin, and neither am I a beast spawned from the depths of Out of Time. I don’t want you to die.” And he didn’t, even beyond needing her for the exchange. There had been more than enough senseless death already, and truth be told Deas would be glad if there was no more needless casualties both among their own numbers and among the Mancers as well. It was a sentiment he kept closely guarded, however; he knew well enough how most others would take to the idea.

“Your father’s sword -- if you had it with you when you were captured, then it is being kept along with the other belongings you had on you at the time. They will be returned to you as soon as the exchange goes through,” he explained. “Which it will. Don’t doubt that, Miss Fortuin. I want it to happen, and I’d wager that the so does the Demonlord. And we’re influential people, he and I; we’ll both see to it that everyone is safely returned to where they belong. There’s no need for you to worry.”

He smiled at the young Mancer, doing his best to both sound and seem reassuring. It was a bit disconcerting to have to rely on the goodwill of a person he’d never personally met, but Deas was confident that Varamadras would want Maia back unharmed just as much as he hoped for Daneal’s safe return. Deas could understand Maia’s trepidation well, though, and he hoped that he could convey some sense of security to her. 

[maia-fortuin]

Friendly Faces || Maia & Deas

[maia-fortuin]

Maia heard the door creak open and held herself tighter, awaiting the blow – physical or mental. Instead she heard the soft, dignified, but nervous voice of an aging man. He had even addressed her by her last name only, as was custom in Pai. The presence of a man who spoke thusly, caused her to unclench somewhat. Then, after politely begging her forgiveness for intruding, he casually announced that he was the king of the Knights. In the presence of such authority, Maia’s instinctive need to be polite to royalty caused her to jump from her curled position on the bed and kneel on the floor. Then, remembering to whom she was kneeling, Maia got up, somewhat embarrassed and tried to make it seem as she had fallen. Maia then stood with her hands tightly clasped and her eyes on the floor. She fought hard to not respond graciously to the King’s well-mannered introduction and kept silent. The King then apologized for the state of her room. This surprised Maia as, in terms of a holding cell for prisoners, this room was well constructed to contain a soldier of her magical and athletic ability. It was not that she enjoyed this place, but as a burgeoning strategist of the Mancers, she was well aware that of the cost of jailing prisoners comfortably was not practical when one had their own soldiers to feed (even though, she had to admit she thought the Mancer prisons were much nicer). Unless this king has some pretention that Maia was some sort of guest to be well cared for? Was he truly so soft towards those he was supposed to be against? This gave Maia some comfort – though it was more likely the King was just being pleasant for some ulterior motive. Unless of course, he had intentions of keeping her happy so she could go home? It was too much to ask for. Maia bit her lip, trying to not speak to a man she must hate, till she could take the stress no more and had to ask the question most pressing on her thoughts. “Please Sir Deas. Tell me truly. Am I to die here?” she said softly, restraining her tears.

[deasuef]

Deas stared at the Mancer for a silent moment, caught between surprise and shock. This wasn’t at all the reaction he’d expected, and once more he was hit by the realization that he didn’t know how to handle the situation. Karadas would’ve handled this better, no doubt about it -- he had to pull himself together.

“Are you to--No! I can see why you might think that, but no.” It came out more vehemently than he’d intended, and, surprised by his own reaction, he took a step back from the Mancer. More softly, he continued, “You’re not going to die here, Miss Fortuin. In fact, the sooner you take your leave of us the better -- one of our own Knights has been captured. If all goes well, we’ll trade: you get to go home, and we get our compatriot back.”

There had already been several inquiries as to whether there would be any rescue mission sent out for Daneal -- Deas had refused those requests. The current situation was one which could be solved with no blood shed at all, as long as the Cold North agreed. And he saw no reason why they wouldn’t. Maia, though, would not know that, and he hoped that his words had managed to reassure her at least a bit. A Mancer captive was fine in and of itself, but a crying one was not something Deas wanted.

“That being the plan, however, the life of Daneal -- the Knight who has been captured -- hinges on your stay here, Miss. If you were to escape, I would have nothing to bring to the table in the exchange talks. Meaning that for the time being, you’re going to have to stay here.” He kept his voice deliberately level and his face expressionless, as he’d been schooled to do in his early years. There was still the chance that Maia was simply faking her tears -- for whatever goal -- and if that turned out to be the case, Deas didn’t want to get caught in it. “I hope that is agreeable for you.”

[maia-fortuin]

Friendly Faces || Maia & Deas

Maia lay on her prison bunk, still sobbing softly into the stone walls – something she had been doing for hours. The meal her enemies had laid out for her lay untouched next to the door where they had left it. She had no stomach to eat. Besides, though they had endeavored to make her breakfast, all of the eggs had been scrambled. When Maia saw this, it had started a fresh bout of crying for her as it made the distance from even her smallest comforts seemed further and further away. The soldier who had dropped it off seemed apologetic, but said nothing. Maia looked up at the roof of her cell which provided the meager sunlight that lit it. It seemed it was nearing mid-day. This again, upset her as it reminded her how slow the passage of time was in this private hell. Had she really only been here for two days? It felt like an eternity. Maia felt utterly miserable. How could she possibly stay sane in this prison? If only they would give her something to read – or someone to talk to – someone nice. But how could she expect to see a friendly face among her mortal enemies? Maia had not felt this alone since she had escaped from Pai. She became so desperate, she decided to make her own friendly face. Maia bit down hard on her finger till a small bead of blood appeared on it. She then ran the finger across the cold stone to make the rough outline of a fox.

“Hello Moto…” She whispered to the crude figure. Suddenly Maia heard a knock at the door. Maia remained facing the wall and shut her eyes against the threat as she continued to cry softly.

[deasuef]

They had a Mancer stuck in the prison cells, and Deas was not entirely sure what to do with her. Or more, everyone seemed to have an opinion what should be done --namely, interrogate her for everything she was worth-- but with one of their own currently caught by the Mancers, Deas’ plans hinged on an exchange of hostages he was not willing to jeopardize. No. She was the first prisoner they had taken since he’d become king, and vital for his plans going forward. That being the case Deas felt that it was only right that he went to meet her. Upon his request, a soldier led him to the dungeons, indicating with a bow and a curt nod when they had arrived at the cell holding the Mancer. Steeling himself, Deas took a deep breath, knocked on the door, and entered the cell.

The Mancer, he immediately saw upon entering, was facing away from him, turned toward the wall. With a start Deas realized that she was crying -- softly, yes, but the room was so quiet that it was impossible to miss. Even worse, he didn’t know how to deal with it -- any attempts at comforting her, he figured, would only serve to worsen the situation. In the end he decided to pretend as if he didn’t notice, and coughed quietly to clear his throat. “Miss Fortuin,” he greeted her with a nod he was not sure she would see. “Pardon the intrusion. I am Deas Uef, King of Trolian.” 

Nodding at the room around them, he continued, “My sincerest apologies for the current state of your quarters. They are the only type of secure holding cell we have at our disposal.” The Cold North, he knew, had proper housing for their prisoners, but as far as he was aware the Knights as a whole had never much cared for the comfort of their hostages. And while a gilded cage was a cage nevertheless, it did not, he hoped, ooze the sort of dismal air of depthless despair this place did. He would bring this up with his advisers later, Deas decided.

[deasuef]

The Plan | After Landon Fields

There were two stacks of paper on Deas’ desk, and while the one was continually getting smaller as he read through battle reports the other, though it had already been on the thin side to start out with, had yet to even be touched. It contained the list of casualties the battle had claimed, and Deas, for all the success the Goodlands had had out on Landon Fields, was not yet ready to face Had Karadas felt the same sense of dread, he wondered? 

He already knew the rough numbers, of course; while not a single Knight had been killed one had been captured, and over a hundred soldiers had given their lives on the battlefield. Those weren’t bad numbers, the military leaders had assured him, but unrealistic as it was Deas would nevertheless have liked an entirely casualty-free outcome.

The captured Knight they would get back, of course, but there was nothing in all the world that could return the fallen soldiers back to their families and loved ones.

But the Knight. Daneal  Oas. Deas had no recollection of ever having met him, but from what he’d heard he was a nice enough young man, and well-liked by the other members of his compan. In fact he had already received several letters from them, stating that yes, they knew he was a busy man and “doing lotsa kingly stuff” -- as good a description as any -- but could he please get Daneal back? 

He would. Of course he would.

It meant he would have to meet with an envoy from the Cold North, however, and right there was the reason Deas felt so bad about the letters. Yes, they would treat with the Mancers -- exchange the young Mancer they had captured for their own prisoner, ideally -- but the exchange of prisoners was not the only thing that would be discussed at that meeting.

Deas fought the urge to bury his head in his hands and just lie face-down on his desk and never move again. This all felt entirely too much like the sort of back-handed politics he’d always been wary of -- but there was no way around it just now.

“Get me Madras, Leysen, Ser Tyr and Ser Bealish, please,” he asked his aide, “And the Knight Killah Do as well. She should be at the compan quarters together with her brother. Tell her that it’s about the idea she told me about just before the battle.” The aide nodded and left, and Deas, now alone, leaned back in his chair with a weary sigh.

There were a lot of things to take care of. A lot of things to take into account. But this was an opportunity, and he would not let it pass by unused.

[deasuef]

Are you happy, being king?

I would be happier if Karadas were still alive, but being king does provide me with quite a few opportunities to do good that I simply would not have had otherwise. That makes me happy, yes.

[deasuef]

Have you ever personally dealt with depression?

That’s a very personal question to ask. Don’t you think? 

[deasuef]

VOUCHER! I want to see the reactions of Deas' older brothers in his company when he got the throne. Did they hold back? Were they annoyed by it? Or did Karadas' absence allow them to look past that initial hate? WRITE!

The old oak table, scuffed and wearing the scrapes of several centuries’ worth of use but nevertheless the most solid thing in the room. The heavy red brocade making up both the curtains and also lining the chairs. The stuffed, oppressing atmosphere of the room. There were a lot of things that had changed since the last time Deas had been in the company of his brothers, but the utterly unwelcoming feel the castle’s conference room had to it was not one of them.

Not even the seating arrangement had undergone all that much change -- in fact, only Deas’ own placement in the room was different. Once he had been seated at the far end of the long table; and even that only a formality, for there was of course royal blood running through his veins no matter what else might share that space, and it would not do for appearances to exclude him completely. Where once he could not be further from the minds of his brothers, he now occupied the main chair, high-backed and as well-worn as anything in the room.

It was the last place he had ever expected to be addressing his brothers from, and if Deas had been prone to believe in ghosts, he would have pointed in the direction of his dead brother as to the reason why he now felt so uncomfortable sitting there. It had been Karadas’ -- the king’s -- seat of honor, after all. All of his remaining brothers were in attendance, and with so many eyes fixed on him, who would not feel at least a bit of trepidation?

Still, Deas drew confidence from the fact that they were sitting there at all. The call for this meeting had come not from the new king but from their youngest brother, and Deas had made it abundantly clear that that was all there was to it. And yet they had come. All of them.

Now that they were all here, however, Deas was finding it difficult to meet the eyes of any of his brothers. He knew that they all had been after the throne in one way or another, whether for themselves or in support of one of his other brothers. The Goodlands had rallied behind Yohn, Caspas, and Minas, and Deas knew well enough that it had only been Madras and Leysen Gaia’s support that had put him within touching distance of the throne in the first place. If it hadn’t been for those two supporting him instead of one of his other brothers, then. Things would be very different then.

(In the stories he had been read in bed when he was still younger and the world had seemed just a bit more coherent, the only true path to kingship had been regicide. For a good, lawful prince to ascend to his rightful place, the evil king on the throne had to be deposed of first – but Karadas? Karadas had been many things, but he had not been evil. What then did that make Deas?)

Things being as they were, as soon as the letters calling for the meeting had been sent out, Deas had sat down to prepare a speech. Turns of phrase and the stringing together of arguments did not come easily to him, but in the end, he had written no less than five pages in preparation of what he would say to his brothers once they were all finally face to face again.

He had gone through it several times beforehand, in his rooms, and while he knew the words by heart the sentiments held inside them still rang hollow. Working together for the good of the alliance. Seeing an end to the war, once and for all. Honoring Karadas’ memory, getting over the differences between them. Well-trodden, empty sentiments, all of it. They felt like ash in his mouth. 

And yet, when he had finished and everyone had clapped politely and the almost ritual-sounding responses had been said in turn (and Yohn and Minas had all but vanished into thing air, which he did not begrudge them) and most of his brothers had filed out of the room and back to their quarters, Deas gathered up his papers. 

And heard: 

“Would that we had heard you make a speech like that while Karadas was still with us.” London. London, suddenly appearing beside him, the beginnings of a grin on his lips and his eyes sparkling as he winked at Deas. “He might’ve come around to you yet, but--I suppose we’ll never know, eh?”

“Only Karadas? One brother out of seven does not a happy family make, you know.” And that was Weston, appearing at his other shoulder--Deas still too baffled to say much of anything in response. “Now, though? At the very least I’d wager that you’ve got the both of us behind you. Caspas, too, if the looks he was shooting Minas are any indication. Good grief, you’d think he’d take this like a man, but--that’s Minas for you, you know. Either way, littlest brother, keep your head up, you hear?”

With that they headed off, too, and Deas was left standing there. Utterly surprised, of course, because that was not the kind of reaction he had expected. But just as dread had been worming its way through his guts an hour earlier, though, there was now a faint feeling of hope -- perhaps things would work out, with his brothers. Perhaps this would not be as bad as he feared. Perhaps, perhaps. The future was yet uncertain.

Nevertheless there was a spring to his step when he finally headed off to his own quarters, and the first thing he did was sit down at the work desk and start to pen drafts for a few letters.

To London; To Weston; To Caspas.

Awaiting your reply,Your brother, Deas.

[deasuef]

Break’s Over | Killah and Deas

[deasuef]

killah-do:

“You might have liked him—but that’s a big might. Prickly doesn’t begin to describe him, sweet suns.” Hearing Deas praise her progress was so bizarrely encouraging that a grin spread over her face, and she said quickly, “Hey, watch. Don’t jinx it, now.”

Killah gave him a nod as he spoke of Chodi. “He’ll be more use than me on that front. All I know ‘bout Warelestian that’s more than what I knew in Atiqra is that if you go into the Wastes on your own, you’re a moron.” And very lucky if you come out of it alive, she didn’t add. No need to dwell on the negative — which was a thought she’d never had before, either, or at least not in her memory. Optimism had been buried under a lot of layers of resentment and worst-case thinking, apparently. “Well, that and a lot of things can taste like rabbit if you try hard enough,” she amended, a bit cryptically.

She laughed loudly at Deas’ protests. He really wasn’t a ’sire’, so that was a relief. “I’m sticking with ‘boss,’ though. ‘Cause if I use it in front of other people, only you and I will know I’m being an ass. Everyone else will assume I’ve developed some sort of respect for authority, and that’s just too funny for me to pass up.”

Quieting a little, Killah listened to what he said about recruitment. “Y’know, before I left, I had a conversation or two with a like-minded soul…“ She didn’t mention that said soul wore Mancer black. Well, more of just a stupid coat that happened to be black. But he was a Mancer all the same and that made it Mancer black didn’t it? “But we were talking ‘bout making some sort of… refuge. A place to train Magicians that doesn’t set them up as fodder for the war. Don’t know if you’d be interested in something like that, but if you want we can talk about it more, later. After we’ve both gotten some sleep. Because,” she shook her head and stifled a yawn, “sorry boss, but you look like I feel, and that’s not a good thing.”

“I’ll just take your word for it, then. And well, when it comes to Warelestian. Any information and advice either of you can offer is already a good deal more than what what we have on hand ourselves. Case in point: I’ll inform our agents about the rabbit-flavor immediately,” he joked, chuckling lightly. 

Deas had to fight the urge to hide his face in his hands, the idea of Killah calling him anything just a bit ridiculous. “’Boss’ is entirely fine as long as you’re also aware that I won’t be able to take you seriously,” he laughed. “Now, if only some of the nobles were also privy to that understanding. I swear, they think I must be blind if they think I can’t see them roll their eyes and scrunch up their faces whenever they have to so much as make polite noises at me.” He paused briefly to wink at Killah. “They may yet see reason, of course, but I won’t be holding my breath for it.” 

Pleasing everyone was, at this point, no longer feasible -- Deas was starting to realize that. For all their talk of a unified Goodlands, the nobles were playing their own games. Understandable, of course. Everyone was looking out for themselves and their own country, and he would not -- could not -- hold that against them. But as king, it was Deas’ job to watch out for everyone. And sometimes that meant pushing through with whatever he felt was best despite (strenuous) pushback from others.

That he didn’t have to worry about all sorts of possible diplomatic missteps with Killah was an absolute delight, and something he hadn’t realized he’d missed until it was all but jumping him in the face. Friends? Yes. Friends. With Miero away with his own compan and Madras off on his own errands, friends had been in short supply.

“A refuge?” he repeated, somewhat incredulously. That certainly piqued his interest, although -- as with everything recently, it would seem -- the sheer logistics of such a thing seemed all too overwhelming at the moment. Exhaustion was doing its own part, of course; Killah was absolutely right. “We’ll definitely have to talk more about that idea, yes. Especially if you already know other people who are open to it -- but later. For now, sleep really does seem like a very good idea in itself.”

[deasuef]

Who gives a king his limits? Can he be vetoed?

In theory, the king is not able to be vetoed by any single person or governmental body. The various nobles of the countries involved in the Goodlands alliance are supposed to advise him, as are the leaders of the military. Ideally, together they will come up with a decision that satisfies everyone while favoring no one party in particular.

What it boils down to in practice is a lot of people arguing rather loudly over the most insignificant things.

[deasuef]

Who was present during your birth?

My mother, I would presume.

[deasuef]

Break’s Over | Killah and Deas

[deasuef]

killah-do:

“Good guy, my hermit. Saved me from my own stupidity. Plus, sobered me up, which I can tell you now is something I never thought I’d manage, or even want. But I feel great now.” For the most part. She still hit rough patches, and it was only going to get rougher, she knew, when she was back in the field and fighting. But she just had to keep telling herself it was worth it. It also helped that Chodi’s magic could tame her desire to drink, a little, when it got too bad. They’d talked over it at length and decided it was okay to do that if the need arose. And it had, several times. Still, it felt like an improvement, like for the first time in her life she had a little bit of control on things. She didn’t want to give that up.

Brought back to the topic of her brother, she smiled. “You’ll like him, I’m sure. I was thinking he might even be of some use to you, with all your negotiating and diplomacy shit. Sorry, stuff.” She shook her head, laughing. “Man, do I have to call you sire or something? Because that’s not happening, unless you become a real…uh, ‘unpleasant person,’ now you’re at the top.”

She listened to his words about her leaving the guild, then replied quickly, “Nah, don’t go telling everyone. I don’t want to start a trend that might be a problem for you—I know of a few more like me who ain’t too happy with the whole conscription process.” Bane. Amean. Most of the people she actually had any respect for, really, except Kelt and her Commander. And Deas himself of course, though she didn’t really know where he stood with that. “Just so long as Zea knows I’ll do my own thing (which between you an’ me, that’s exactly what I did before anyway) then that’s all I really want. The freedom to fight on my own terms.” Grinning, she said, “And, I’m glad I’m back too.”

The idea of Killah hanging out with a hermit, and one who had saved her, in her own words -- well. That was truly amazing. “He sounds like a very heroic hermit, if he sobered you up! As well as just a tiny bit intimidating, if you don’t mind me saying so. But both he and you should be very proud,” Deas told her in earnest tones. He was very glad that Killah had happened upon someone like the hermit when she had been in need of support -- a heroic hermit, and very nice apparently. 

Chuckling lightly at Killah’s words, he agreed, “The more help I’m able to get for matters of diplomacy, the better -- your brother’s aid would be very welcome, especially when it pertains to your home country. You too, of course,” Deas added with a smile. There was a certain lightness to this conversation that he’d missed with just about everyone else these days. Miero, of course, was one of the exceptions, and Deas was beyond glad to find that the same was true for Killah, too; perhaps her brother as well. He sounded like a very nice person. And with Killah right now, when Deas laughed it wasn’t one of the polite, forced laughs, either, and it felt very good. “But, please, don’t call me anything like that. It’s already bad enough when people I only barely know do it, so-- I will try very hard not to become an ‘unpleasant person.’ You have my word.”

Deas nodded in understanding as Killah explained the reasons for why it might not be the best of moves to tell people just what she had been up to. She was right, of course. “Naturally -- thanks for thinking of that, I appreciate the thought. Although it seems like the problem is more with how we recruit, rather then with word of the specifics of your departure coming out,” Deas noted. It was something he would have to give extensive thought, he knew -- he had said he was going to change the way the war was run when he had ascended the throne. He was going to stand by that promise, too. But this, Deas also knew, was not something he could do without the proper support -- it would take time, and planning, and neither of those things were in ample supply in the middle of a battle. As soon as it was over, though. As soon as they had won. (Hopefully.) 

“Zea won’t mind in the least to leave you to your own devices, though, I’m sure. We’ll say your super secret mission brought you to Warelestian, and that your brother was somehow involved in it, too,” he said, thinking out loud but quickly getting into it. “That way, we’d have an explanation for his presence here, as well as any future trips of yours to Warelestian.” 

[deasuef]

What would you do with deserters from the Cold North wanting to join your army?

Accept them. Cautiously. They may very well be spies sent to infiltrate us, but if they aren’t, then it is our duty to take them in and give them shelter.

[deasuef]

Break’s Over | Killah and Deas

[deasuef]

killah-do:

She didn’t need much prompting, and collapsed into the chair Deas had gestured to. The look she got for blindsiding her was well worth the hours of travel it took to get there. She laughed at the questions, leaned forward and explained excitedly, “I did! I have! I even brought one of them back with me, my brother. I found them all, Deas. I saw my mother and my tribe and my old friends… it was wonderful. I also got stuck for a while with an old hermit-type guy, but that was better than it sounds.”

Shaking her head she looked around, scrutinizing what little there was to scrutinize. “But I heard you were king now, so I decided to come back. Figured you could use an extra pair of hands—but if I’d known you’d just be hiding out in a dark tent…“ she teased.

Sitting forward a bit, Killah looked closer at Deas. “Seriously, though. I’m here now, so if you need anything, assuming Bane doesn’t kill me for leaving him behind, of course—you say the word. Starting with this battle.” She’d made up her mind along the journey back. So long as she had people to protect over on this side, it would be her side. Not for any sort of patriotism obviously. But just for the practical fact that the fighting was going to continue, and that her friends would be in it. She didn’t want to abandon anyone again, not now that she’d regained so much. She only hoped that they wanted her there, which was more uncertain than she cared to admit. “There’s just one thing.” Killah fixed him with a level gaze, dead serious. “I’ll fight beside them, an’ I’ll take their orders if they’re good ones. But I don’t wanna be a Knight anymore.”

After trying and ultimately very quickly failing to compose himself, Deas gave up entirely and just sat there, grinning happily while Killah talked. “So you did find them -- that’s incredible,” Deas laughed, swept along by Killah’s excitement. “But what’s this about getting stuck with a hermit? Sounds like a real adventure! And your brother, he’s here with you. Wow. You’ll have to introduce us, I’d love to meet him.” And what luck that she had found him and the rest of her tribe! It must have been amazing, to see them all again -- to have that journey, and all the risks she had taken, finally pay off. A great relief.

To have her back here was just as incredible. Deas matched Killah’s posture, leaning forward and drumming his fingers on the table while he talked. He didn’t question her decision to fight again, instead jumping straight to the crux of the matter: “Ah. Yes. If you don’t want to be a Knight anymore, then I will, of course, support you in that decision. The only problem is that I. Well.” He coughed, unsure of how to best explain. “After you had left, so as to buy you some time I told everyone that you were on a very secret mission -- so we'll have to work that in somehow, when we tell everyone that you are once again back with us but no longer a Knight proper.” That would take some thinking to properly work out, but in this matter Deas was sure that he could count on Madras. If he couldn’t come up with a solution on his own. 

“I’m just--I’m glad you’re back, Killah. Really glad. Everything already seems livelier with you around. Even this incredibly exciting dark tent,” he joked. And there would be so many people also incredibly relieved to know of her return -- Bane, who Deas imagined might even show a genuine smile in reaction, and Amean, and Zea and all the rest of the compan . . . What a day. 

[deasuef]

Only the Living | Bealish and Deas

[deasuef]

ser-bealish:

“I’m not deliberately looking for short comings! I didn’t insult you first, I was simply pointing out-” She then stopped mid-sentence, sighing and running a hand through her hair. What was she doing? He was the king, whether she liked it or not. And he could demote her at any point since he had the power. She didn’t have to like him, she just had to respect him. Falsely, even. Bealish thought that she could break him down and make him allow her to go if she fought some more on the matter, but what would it look like to the people if he gave in to someone who worked for him?

Looking down, she took a few moments to herself before sitting at a chair close beside him and staring idly at the map. “…I just miss him, Deas,” Bealish admitted quietly. This was more than rare for any sign or emotion from her, but it wasn’t even like she was herself in that instance. But soon enough, she looked up at him with a more tamed and calm expression. “I apologize. I will comply with what you have planned for me,” Bealish continued in a low volume. Deas was now the closest connection she had to Karadas, and even though she wasn’t going to mope around about his death, she wasn’t going to stop hunting for the person who did it.  Clearing her throat a bit, she pulled up a seat for him and looked at the map. “It is true that you have some tactical experience, but you were still learning under myself and I would like to supplement your knowledge…If you’d allow me, of course. But do not expect me to stay by your side for all battles. I’d like to do what I love at some point.” She then studied the map for a few seconds more, even though she knew she didn’t have to. Deas was new to this, he must’ve been nervous. Hopefully she could help him enough so the enemy wouldn’t think that he would be easy to overcome. 

“As for yourself, I would like to personally guard your quarters. I have nothing to do besides help you, so I would like to make sure that no one tries to hurt another one of my kings. I will not take no for an answer on this matter, I’m sorry. I will stay outside by the door if you would like privacy.” Maybe this was why the Demons called her the king’s dog. 

Deas swallowed hard, his throat suddenly uncomfortably dry. He’d thought that by now, he was able to  but the sheer emotion in Bealish’s voice brought it all right back up to the surface, along with a great deal of sympathy for Bealish. Deas had been close to Karadas by blood, but his late brother and Bealish had been true friends -- a much tighter bond. Of course she would be feeling the pain of his passing even more keenly.

“Please don’t apologize.” Deas finally said when he had gathered his thoughts, “not for something like that. I miss him, too. A lot.” There was more he was going to say, about how he felt he owed it to his brother to keep Bealish safe at least for this battle, and how there was nothing he wanted more than for Karadas to be standing here instead of him. Her concession to his orders, however, took him so by surprise that the words once more quickly died in his throat.

Incredulous at what he had just heard, Deas quickly glanced at Bealish. But, no. She seemed very serious (as she always did), and so he quickly told her, “I would be delighted to have your support for the planning of this battle. I very much value your opinions, and your experience will be invaluable.” It would show everyone that high command was capable of working together -- and beyond that, Deas was simply glad to know Bealish was on his side. “And rest assured, I stand by what I said earlier: any further battles to come, you have my express leave to fight wherever and however you want. So, thank you for your cooperation in this. I can’t begin to say how much I appreciate it.”

A smile worked its way onto his face at Bealish’s offer -- or rather, demand -- of protecting him. As if he’d be able to deny her that when he had just pretty much done the same to her. “No--no. Of course. If you would like to stand guard, then, please. But know that you are welcome to come inside the tent, too.”