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DWC – June 6 – Day 7 – Horrify | Render

@daily-writing-challenge

When military types have difficult interpersonal matters on their mind before a decisive mission, there are two kinds. Some bury the personal to concentrate on the matter at hand and not render their comrades unable to act, even if it means compromising their own attention and judgment for the cloud still hanging over them. Others insist on clearing the air beforehand so as to have their full focus ready for the mission, even if it means compromising the others with what they’d just dropped on them.

With the Darkwell threatening to swallow up Silvermoon and then the rest, Arthas and I tried to hold to the former. We should have calculated in Arator. We had seen he was the latter type, repeatedly. And now, troops gathering for a concentrated assault, he wore that look when we saw him, the one that said he knew whose spirit was living with me. We were coming to recognise it on people.

Some people can keep secrets. Some can even keep open secrets with a discretion bordering on the supernatural. Among our associates in Silvermoon, Astalor was that kind, so was Rommath, grudgingly, his pragmatic nature winning out over who he might think he should be. Umbric and our socialite friend Teirdya both acted the talkative kind but kept hidden what needed to be, and one was none the wiser. Lor’themar was so discreet he refused to even speak of the matter directly to us, keeping to his roundabout euphemisms and conjunctive forms. If you didn’t fully address it, it wouldn’t manifest.

The common people, however… A different story. And all the Alliance people here to help, who had now had years to get used to the matter, even if as an open secret, and who probably didn’t bother with hushed whispers like they used to. It was going to come out, and in a way it was a relief, but now was suboptimal timing.

When we had been requested to spend time with Arator and help him re-find himself and his connection to the Light, we had thought it was a terrible idea, on top of the waste of time at a crucial stage in the city’s defence. We had reported our woes to Soridormi, who kept not-so-discreet eyes on the proceedings from the central inn, and whom we had come to trust in time since having ourselves adopted into the bronze flight. She gave us a mysterious smile from behind her fan and said we should do it: Young Arator would still have an important role to play, and we, too, would want him to play it. So we had relented, and accidentally struck up the most awkward possible friendship.

Now he had heard.

His expression was still horrified, so it was fresh, and instead of a greeting, he kept hurriedly looking me over, as if to find out who I was.

“Hello,” I attempted.

“You brought in Arthas? After he had just been defeated? You travelled through time to make it happen? For what?”

You didn’t necessarily want to cool down to these situations, but you did. At some point, the talk became routine, and the routine became chore, and you started cutting corners. And around us they were assembling to win back Silvermoon, and wanted their diplomatic coordinator back, who was not in a diplomatic mood right now. I sighed and explained. Wanting to save his soul. Liking the accounts. Seeing someone who had been duped by demonic forces like so many before and after him and who deserved another go at life. Refusing to see any soul as lost and not worth saving, and feeling a personal drive to be the one to do it in this case. And once we had met, love, plain and simple.

To his credit, he listened, tried to calm down. Then he grew agitated again. “But, it’s Arthas. My whole family…” He gestured around us. “All this…”

“No, not all this,” I had to insist. “That had many cooks.”

He sighed. “You’re right. Still. And nobody told me? All this time? I had to hear from some gossiping magisters!”

So the cat was well and truly out of the bag and roaming the city. Perhaps for the best. “Have you looked around us? We would have had to eventually. We weren’t planning to befriend you either. But that happened. We were actually going to keep our polite distance.” I gave him a small smile. “That was Lor’themar’s fault. Perhaps he reflects about it more than he lets on.”

He clenched his teeth. “I hear you’ve been doing good all around Azeroth. You… You were there with me when I sought back the Light. You’re a warlock. He is… him. Did you even mean anything you said?”

“Of course. We stand with the Light. Other forces are what we study and work with because not knowing them or having allies there is childish and stupid. And it’s what I can do and am good at. Extends to him now. So it’s what we use.”

“Was that both of you I was talking to? You are… Lorsirain, right?”

“Mhm. People can often tell in some ways, especially once they know. It’s always both of us, but one of us is in control at the time, handling the outside. And yes, it was us both. First it was supposed to be just me because of… circumstances, but he got curious about some parts of the journey, and well. We don’t keep one person contained over long periods of time anyway, and it was a long trip.”

Arator just shook his head, probably processing. Then he looked up. “I want to talk to Arthas.”

I mentally nudged my partner. ‘What do you think?’

‘It has to be now, doesn’t it? Fine, I’ll take over.’

“Hello again,” Arthas said once he had the reins.

Arator simply stared at him.

“We talked down scarlets together,” Arthas offered.

“That was you.” He paused to think. “You sounded a bit too familiar with their ways and their thinking. For a warlock dracthyr, that is.”

“Don’t underestimate his education now. He got us into the bronze flight, as his ‘what the dracthyr wants to do now that he’s free’ point. Along with the Alliance. We’re practical historians if you will.”

Arator crossed his arms. “You know what I mean.”

“I know what you mean. It’s not unfamiliar. I had Lorsirain deal with the relics, before you ask. That was better in his hands, at a bit of a distance. You didn’t need my stupid memories getting in between; it wasn’t about that.”

Arator seemed to mull that over too, and then asked, “How did you return to the Light? Out of all people…”

‘What a time to talk theology,’ Arthas thought at me, ‘but fine, just so that one person on this square can have peace of mind.’ He pointed at our head. “Him. He brought it, he trusted it, he trusted it would help him save me, simply because he really wanted it, and he was convinced it was the right thing, and it did. That told me despite all, it was my ally. You have to appreciate that kind of bias. Especially if you’ve ended up where I had. Helped us put my horse to rest too, once I was moved in. A small thing for most maybe. Lorsirain thought I should ask first this time, and he’d be there to back me up. It listened.” He shrugged. “I haven’t looked back from any of the decisions I made at that point in Northrend.”

Arator slowly exhaled. “It does sound a lot like what we’ve been seeing. And what I’d forgotten. Conviction and… mercy. Is that why Anduin accepted you? At first I could hardly believe it.”

“We think so, at least in part. He was at a point in his life where he needed to hear that sort of thing. And Lorsirain says we were a problem he could trust only himself to solve, because he’s him and the others lack his qualities, and that was good to motivate him to step back into the world at least somewhat. Bit of a joke that we did him a favour, but there’s something to it.”

“Can I ask… You talk of decisions. Many would have chosen the mercy of death after everything. What made you accept Lorsirain’s offer to come back to life instead? In that moment, I mean? Not down the line. He was a warlock offering you a space as a ghost in his mind. What was the appeal?”

Arthas smiled. “You’re not stupid. Medivh wanted to know the same thing. Well, first of all, he offered more than that, he offered a life shared, and…”

“Keep it simple,” Arator cut in. “I want to know what manner of man I’m talking to.”

“Where was the hurry when the troops wanted organising? Simple then. If I’d left, he’d have stopped talking, and I couldn’t have stayed with him, and I couldn’t have that.”

A tiny smile fought its way onto Arator’s lips. Everyone’s soft to some things.

“I see,” he said. “So. You two…”

“Yes. Whatever the fine magisters were gossiping, they were probably at least right about that.”

“They did mention that.” Then his smile turned into a mixture of scorn and amusement.

“Well, what now?” Arthas asked. “What else did they say?”

“You may not want to…”

“Gossip has to be shared, and you started it.”

Arator snorted. “Have it your way then. One of them said, ‘I couldn’t do that, live in a marriage like that, sure I call in the occasional company from other planes, but those are diversions, and they are still separate and we go our separate ways afterwards.’ And the other said, ‘You can’t even draw a political advantage out of it nor build a proper house. If I think about what a nuisance it would be not to have my wife and her family…’ Well. Magisters, I suppose.”

Arthas laughed. “That’s people in general. Listen to the human nobles back home someday, it’s all the same; I find the Magisters here just refreshingly honest about it. It’s true anyway, I bring nothing but disadvantages, especially politically.”

Arator visibly tried to hold back the smile but failed. Then he turned serious again. “Did my mother know?”

“I don’t think so, unless someone whispered her something. You never know. The Void denizens are prone to that. In any case she never brought it up or made it a problem.”

“Do… my aunts know?”

“Not that we know of. When we worked with Vereesa earlier, we kept quiet, and she seems the type to say something. As for the other one, we’d rather avoid that situation. We’ll handle it if we must, but….”

“Yes… yes.”

“Your family is somewhat prone to acting emotionally in the moment, and for anyone who’s looked at the sky lately…”

Arator sighed. “I know what you’re saying.”

“Well. I’ll copy what Lorsirain has asked a few people in these conversations since then. Are we at peace then?”

Arator seemed struck by the direct question and having to make a decision on that on the spot. Then, to his credit, he gave us a resigned smile. “We already were. Lor’themar is a cunning man if he wants to. He doesn’t hold the reins of Silvermoon for nothing, you know.”

“So I see.”

After hesitating and seemingly arguing with himself, Arator held out his hand. “Shall we accept and continue on as friends then, all of us?”

Arthas took it, briefly sensing for my reaction and any objections. There were none. This was a surprising stroke of good fortune. “Let’s do that,” he said. “Seems your approach isn’t so bad sometimes.”

“My approach?”

“Clear the air first, worry about the mission later. Well, I’d say they’re assembling themselves just fine on their own. More people at home could learn from that elven discipline.”

Arator looked around us at the troops still finding their formations. His expression turned sheepish. “You two have been indulging me a lot throughout all this, and don’t think I don’t know it. Let’s say I owe you one. Probably more. And yes, if the Light has given you a clean slate, then I’d better follow it, or all this would have been for nothing.”

As we joined the preparations, I idly wondered what Soridormi had seen. Whatever it was, this alone had already been worth the effort.

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