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Of Service: A Critical Role Fanfic

So...it’s been like a whole year since I’ve written a fanfic. Mostly because I have been in Critical Role and I don’t usually like to write fanfics while something is ongoing...however...I just can’t resist Shadowghast. I can’t. Will this headcanon and stuff all be thrown out the window in a few months probably? Yes. Do I care because I wrote about hot wizards in a hot tub no feet apart because they are gay? No.

Enjoy!

Read on AO3

Preview:

With some reassurance, Essek found his way up the stairs, thankful to the Luxon for his flotation magic. He made it to the cubby where Jester had promised was an area they kept towels and baskets for clothes. Essek laboriously divulged himself of his clothing, and grabbed a towel. He heard the bubbling of the hot tub, felt a few wisps of warmth cutting through the bracing cold and caress his skin.

Essek opened the door, and Caleb stared back at him.

Incense trailed up to the ceiling, swirling in the air like something living and breathing. The air itself was laden with its scent, of rare flowers that bloomed in the southern swamps and myrrh. It made Essek somewhat dizzy, and brought him somehow out of his own body. It was an odd sensation to be sure and it twisted something in his guts uncomfortably. The Skysybil looked at him, her yellow eyes trailing over his face like the ghost of a touch, and he couldn’t help but shiver. She reached her old withered claws out to him, to grip him by the chin and ground him in the present. He was on his knees, guards still grasping his shoulders, and his hands still bound behind him.

“You are the boy that has everyone so up in arms,” Skysybil accused, and Essek found his tongue too heavy to move. “Look me in the eye, boy. So that I may see you.”

Essek did as she commanded, afraid should he fail that a punishment would befall him. When he caught her eyes, he felt her gaze dig into him, as if his skull was dirt that could be burrowed through. The light in her lantern-like eyes making him feel smaller than what he was, especially as the Skysybil’s goblin form not even as tall as he was kneeling.

“Hmph,” Skysybil said, releasing his chin and nearly throwing him back in disgust. “You are not consecrated, that much is obvious. So either you are a spy or you are just a foolish boy who has a death wish--stealing a spellbook from a noble den’s carriage. Tell me, boy, who were you stealing it for, a benefactor or yourself?”

Skysybil’s hand curled in a somatic gesture and she tapped her staff, and Essek felt an odd prickling at the back of his skull. Essek ground his teeth, scrunching his eyes against the feeling, before with a gasp and a toss of his head the feeling went away.

“Even if you don’t compel me to tell the truth, I’ll still say it. I was taking it for myself,” Essek snapped, leveling his best glare. Though based on the way the goblin’s ancient deep furrowed wrinkled turned up in a grin, it had the effect of a moorbounder babe roaring at his mother. It incensed him even more than it should, and he straightened his spine though his bones creaked and protested at the sudden movement.

“Oh,” Skysybil said, with an amused chuckle that sounded more like knocking the dust from her ribs. “And what were you planning on doing with it?”

“Selling it of course,” Essek said sharply, too quickly. “The Den it belonged to certainly doesn’t need more money, but I do.”

“You see, but I know a spark of ambition when I see one. I’m sure when we found whatever little hovel you squeezed yourself out of, we’ll find all sorts of squandered materials and scrolls, won’t we?” Skysybil said, Essek schooled his face into neutrality, while the goblin laughed even heartier. “That’s dangerous, boy. You know as well as I do that dunamancy is for the Dens, and that power is best placed where it belongs.”

No, I don’t know that, Essek wanted to growl, to scream, but he held his head up high instead. Very well, he thought. Patience it is. Essek knew patience well, knew it as well as he knew shame. All people were motivated by the same thing, to relieve themselves of that aching bit of shame inside of them. The root of that shame was different, how they quelled their instincts was different, but it was the ultimate motivator. If one waited long enough, if one was patient enough, one could find the source of weakness and exploit it. Essek knew this lesson well, had learned it listening in the cracks of a floorboard, sneaking things from bags, jumping off a roof to escape and dragging himself two weeks later to a two-bit cleric who set his legs but did nothing to help the debilitating pain in his spine. If he was patient and thoughtful and useful, he would survive.

Everyone knew the Skysybil was thousands of years old, had seen much more and had worked besides the Bright Queen herself. But the Skysybil had a soft spot somewhere, had something that Essek could exploit to his benefit. If he could get her to think he was more valuable alive than dead, then he could live another day. As long as he could live, survive, then Essek would escape.

What would make Essek valuable to the Skysybil? How could he ingratiate himself to her? People like her understood power, understood the desire for perfection, loved and cherished the Luxon above all else--

“You are right,” Essek said and the Skysybil paused whatever order she was about to give to the guard. “In your infinite wisdom, I’m sure that you understand the machinations of fate in a way that I cannot comprehend. I am young, I am only in my second decade, and I can be hasty. But I believe that my error has brought me here for a reason...the Luxon has brought me here for a reason.”

“And what reason is that?” Skysybil asked, losing for a moment her amused domineering gaze.

“If you go to my hovel, you will find squandered materials and pilfered scrolls. But I don’t need the scrolls anymore...because I can already utilize dunamancy. The guard who was injured didn’t trip, I manipulated dunamis to pull him forward. The scouts couldn’t find my footsteps, not because I am a gifted rogue, but because I used my power to float, a spell that I personally constructed. If I can live, I know that I can become more powerful, and I will be of service to the Bright Queen and the Luxon. And you will be the one they honor, for lifting me out of the muck.”

“Do you hear that, Skysybil? He wishes to be of use to me.”

Suddenly all the air escaped the chamber. Essek looked beyond the Skysybil for a moment, and saw the most ethereal being that he had ever laid eyes upon. She, the Bright Queen, wore a dress that was woven together by stars and mithril that caught the lamplight as she moved. In her hair was a glorious crown of silver and opal, and in her elaborate braids silver thread shimmered. And yet all seemed dimmed by her face, which was so radiantly beautiful that surely all who looked upon her fell into a trance. So dumbfounded he was by her, by her presence that seemed to fill the chamber with light, that his jaw dropped and he sank down low.

“Bow your head!” Skysybil hissed at him, grabbing him by the hair and forcing him down. He tried not to yelp at the sensation. With her claws digging in his head, Essek barely felt the guards release him. Based on the rustling and faint clanking of metal, they must have taken their places and kneeled. “Your majesty, I did not expect you here. If I had known, I would have had the boy’s fool tongue cut out before you heard him address you in such an ignorant way.”

“But it was such an amusing turn of phrase,” the Bright Queen chuckled, “and eloquently stated at that.”

Essek heard delicate footsteps and the rustle of fabric, and then the goblin’s claws were off of his head. A cool gentle hand touched his cheek, and Essek looked up and saw the Bright Queen contemplating him. Essek trembled, unable to help it, he was so close to her that he could smell the perfume that she must have dabbed upon her wrists. Essek had heard the songs the bards spun of her beauty and power, and found it oddly funny none ever mentioned that her eyes were the color of turquoise.

“Child, what is your name?” the Bright Queen asked him.

“Essek, your majesty,” Essek whispered.

“Your den?”

“I have none," Essek said. It was the truth, though he didn't go into any more detail than that. If she asked, he would be compelled to answer. But he hoped beyond all hope that she didn't ask.

“I see,” the Bright Queen said thoughtfully. “A child alone.”

“A dangerous boy,” Skysybil scoffed, tapping her twisted cane.

“Children need guidance and support,” the Bright Queen said as she stood up, tall and radiant. “They need to know someone loves them. Without a denmother, how is a child to be guided, especially a child of such potential? I feel the magic in this one thrumming in his veins, he nearly drips with it, surely you feel it too.”

“Another pet for you to dote on,” Skysybil grumbled.

“My friend, children are not pets,” the Bright Queen laughed, clear as a bell, and then she whispered. “Though I enjoy doting, do not let anyone know that I can be indulgent. This will be a secret between us.”

It took Essek a moment to realize that she was addressing him privately. Essek, now dumb and mute, only found it within him to nod.

“Lady Theylas,” the Bright Queen addressed, and suddenly Essek realized that there were others in the room. He normally would have been angry at himself at the lack of awareness, but Leylas Kryn was like the sun. Everything else paled in comparison to her. The woman who must have been Lady Theylas, the Denmother of one of the most powerful dens in all of the Kryn Dynasty, stood with the other courtiers. She stepped forward and curtsied before the Bright Queen. “This boy tried to steal something from your family did he not?”

“Yes, your majesty.”

“Then I’ll leave his punishment to your discretion, and his education to your charge,” the Bright Queen said as she brushed past all of them, lingering at the door as the rest of her courtiers fluttered about her like moths. “I shall hope to see him again soon, to see how he may be of service to me.”

Essek bowed his head until his forehead touched the floor, and didn’t dare to look up.

__________________________________________________________

The Willow’s Embrace was a bespoke establishment, just on the outside of the Firmament’s District in the Gallimaufry district of Rosohna. There entertainment and companionship could be bought for a high-price. Essek waited in a lavishly prepared room, and felt Keza’s presence before he saw her. Her arms curled around his waist, and she pressed her face into his neck.

“I’ve missed you,” Keza said, and he turned to see her smiling at him. She was drow, a beautiful woman with eyes the color of lilac, and dark skin shaded like a violet mountain sunset. There was a reason why she was the most expensive courtesan in city. He often admired her, like he admired the fine art in his home and his desire for her beauty only ran that superficially deep.

“It has been a while,” Essek said, turning around to take her hand. He kissed it, and she giggled girlishly, fluttering her full silver lashes at him. She lifted her fingers, letting them trail for a moment. This was a game they played often, enjoying each other’s company. Neither of them had the luxury of friends in the traditional sense as they only had competitors, and yet these moments felt oddly like cheating at the game they both played so well.

“You’ve been busy,” Keza said with a conspiratorial whisper, before she sat at the table. Everything in the room was prepared considerately, from the table laden with rare fruits, to the bedroom with the lush bed. She poured tea for both of them, though Essek didn’t touch his cup. She took a sip, curling her toes around the edge of the chair. “I’ve heard that you have been canoodling with a human.”

“Canoodling?” Essek repeated, resisting the way his mouth tried to turn up in a smile. “Now you sound like my Denmother. I shall have you know, I canoodle with no one.”

“You are no fun, Lord Shadowhand,” Keza sighed with a pretty pout, obviously disappointed. “Is he at least pretty? I heard that humans are dreadfully ugly, but he must be pretty to have caught your attention.”

Essek at that moment of weakness did not think of Caleb Widogast’s strikingly blue eyes, or the way that his red hair contrasted so beautifully against his exotic pale skin. Or the marks--the freckles (a word he had learned while reading up on the physiology of humans during his first week of knowing the Nien), that were dusted across his nose and cheeks. While he wasn’t thinking of any of those things, he rolled his eyes.

“Is that what people in Rosohna concern themselves with? Rumors of my love life?”

“Why, of course, you are one of the most eligible bachelors in the country, Lord Shadowhand. Everyone knows that. The fact you’ve avoided a marriage thus far is a miracle that the unwedded drow of all of the dens thank the Luxon for every night.”

“There is nothing about me that makes me a good match, I am afraid I am rather dour and boring once you get past my pretty face,” Essek said, unable to help his preening. He had always been a sucker for a good compliment.

“But what a face it is,” Keza said, violet eyes lidded as she looked at him over her cup. From her robe and undergarments she produced a piece of paper, holding it out in her slender fingers. “I believe this is what you were hoping for?”

Essek quickly folded his fingers and curled his wrist, muttering the words for Detect Magic. In his field of sense, his mantle hummed with dunamantic magic, and Keza’s lute registered with bardic magic, but other than that there were no signs of scrying and nothing on the parchment itself.

“Tell me,” Essek said as he opened the paper and skimmed it. It was a letter, a member of Den Mirimm. It’s contents were rather explicit, and he couldn’t help but sigh. Never his favorite form of correspondence, and he never liked pouring over love letters, but some of the most interesting codes had been hidden in them before. One could never be too careful.

“Lady Quisa of Den VaSuun had that interesting trifle in her purse,” Keza said, “though, she is married of course. A juicy bit of gossip.”

“That it is,” Essek said as he slid the letter into a pouch in his inner sleeve. Den VaSunn was not one of the big three dens. However, this was blackmail that Den VaSunn could utilize to shame the Skysybil’s Den. Essek did not enjoy most interden politics and also did not like the Skysybil, but, it did seem like the Lady would need some...moderate convincing. The Bright Queen needed her dens to be impregnable during the time of war, and it was his job to assure that. “Thank you.”

“Let the Light be with you, Shadowhand. Be safe, kiss the human if he is that cute too!”

Essek shook his head, and exited the establishment. He waited for a moment outside in the alley, seeing a shadow shift and nodding towards it.

“My lord,” the shadow greeted.

“Keep your Eyes on Lady Quisa of Den VaSuun, all correspondence she has make sure it ends up in your Hands,” Essek ordered the shadow. “Have surveillance posted on Lady Murian of Den Mirimm as well, update me on any movements.”

“Should the Skysybil be informed?”

“No,” Essek told the shadow sternly, steepling his hands in thought. “I’ll make that decision when we have more to give to her besides a hunch--”

HELLO ESSEK! JUST WANTED TO LET YOU KNOW THAT WE ARE BACK IN THE CITY AND THAT WE WOULD LOVE TO SEE YOU. WE SAW--

Essek flinched as the sending spell immediately interrupted his train of thought and cut off as suddenly. Jester’s voice reverberated in his brain with the cadence of a pot and pan being banged together. Essek held up his hand to the shadow, who shifted but remained silent.

“Hello Jester. I am happy to hear you are safe. I shall come see you once I have completed my current business.”

The spell fizzled out, and Essek pinched the bridge of his nose, gathering his thoughts once more. His back ached fiercely, and he had been hoping to get home and have a long soak in the bath. But, a Shadowhand’s work was truly never done.

“Update me on any developments,” Essek managed.

“Your will shall be done, Shadowhand,” the shadow said, before disappearing into the darkness.

Essek took a pinch of the gold dust he kept in his component pouch, drawing the sigils on his mantle before muttering the words to activate his Float spell. He moved through the districts, before coming upon the sparkling visage of the home that the Mighty Nein had named the Xhorhaus. No matter how many times he saw it, he was always amused by the giant tree, remembering how many dens had come to complain about it.

He knocked on the door, and Beauregard was the one who answered it. She gave him a smile that looked like she was straining something in her face to produce. Essek tried not to be amused by that, though he failed miserably. She was honestly doing better than the first time he had met her.

“Hey there, Essek,” Beau said as she motioned woodenly. “Would you like to come in?”

“Of course, so long as I am not imposing,” Essek responded.

“You, imposing, no never!” Fjord said, appearing from behind. Essek always found the half-orc to be interesting, in the way he could pull on such an easy congenial face. How he and Beauregard became friends with such disparate personalities was beyond him. “Come on in, Deucey will be cooking dinner soon if you want.”

“I shall pass, though the offer is appreciated,” Essek said simply. Essek had learned, mostly through his interactions with them and through his reading, that the sharing of meals was of cultural familial importance in many places including the Empire and Menagerie Coast. An interesting and lovely cultural footnote to be sure, of less elegance than the weekly prayer that the drow partook in that held the same function. Without a daytime and nighttime, and not having primal sleep hours, the timing of meals these cultures dictated was superfluous. “I just came to check in with you.”

“Essek!” Jester’s voice called from upstairs, and Essek looked up and saw that she was bare except for a bathing robe. She was currently toweling out her short midnight-blue hair. Beauregard gave a strangled noise as she came running down the stairs. “Hi Essek, it is so very veeery nice to see you!”

She held out her arms, expecting a hug. Essek felt his eyebrow twitch, but he didn’t resist as she reached to hug him. It would be worse if he didn’t, and he didn’t feel like having the monk punch him.

“It is...nice to see you too, Jester,” Essek said, managing his best polite face. However, she squeezed, delicate frame hiding much strength. He couldn’t help his gasp as pain shot through his bones, and he gritted his teeth, as the muscles tightened and spasmed. He extricated himself from her grasp, and steadied himself on a nearby side table.

“Oh no! I’m sorry, did I hurt you,” Jester said fretfully, wide violet eyes scanning him as she fluttered her hands nervously. “And I don’t have any more spells today! Caduceus, do you have any more spells today?”

“All out,” the firbolg said, appearing in the doorway. “Why? Oh--oh that’s no fun.”

“It’s...not your fault,” Essek managed through the pain. “I just have to wait for it to pass.”

“We have a hot tub upstairs, a good soak might help you out with that,” Caduceus offered.

Usually, there would be nothing less appealing to Essek then getting naked in a house with a bunch of mercenaries and utilizing their hot tub. Essek did have his own house, and his own servants who were paid to draw up baths with his favorite oils and soaps. This was all besides the fact that he was currently showing the Mighty Nein weakness. He didn’t do weakness, not in front of anyone. Weaknesses were shame, and shame was always exploited. If he was patient it would pass and he could pass it off as nothing.

But he had been through a long day of first dealing with prisoners, and then dealing with politics, and then dealing with the war, and then dealing with his spies. Essek was exhausted down to the bone, and his back hurt, and he was feeling impatient.

“Very well, I shall take advantage of your hospitality then,” Essek sighed, managing to straighten up through another pulse of pain. “We’ll discuss your excursion after.”

“I’ll make drinks! Nott, stop whatever fucking tinkering your doing and help me with drinks!” Beauregard shouted down the steps, throwing open the door and banging on it.

“Drinks?” Nott’s shrill voice echoed up the steps. “What drinks?!”

“No, no drinks,” Essek said. “Just...the hot tub will suffice.”

With some reassurance, Essek found his way up the stairs, thankful to the Luxon for his flotation magic. He made it to the cubby where Jester had promised was an area they kept towels and baskets for clothes. Essek laboriously divulged himself of his clothing, and grabbed a towel. He heard the bubbling of the hot tub, felt a few wisps of warmth cutting through the bracing cold and caress his skin.

Essek opened the door, and Caleb stared back at him.

Oh Light give me strength, Essek prayed, hoping that his flush wasn’t visible. There was skin. Caleb’s skin. Essek wasn’t an idiot, he had known that Caleb had skin. But that wasn’t the point because it was visible skin, not hidden under the layers that normally bundled him up. The warmth from the hot tub did such a wonderful thing to Caleb’s skin, imbuing it with a lush rosy hue not unlike pink quartz. And there were freckles on Caleb’s skin too, and more red hair on his arms and his chest. Humans had hair on their bodies, this had been a section of the human physiology book. Like animals, huddling together for warmth, some other drow had cackled during his schooling. It was supposed to make them grotesque, but all it did was twist something low in Essek’s belly.

Is he pretty? Keza’s voice echoed in his ears.

Shut up, Essek ordered the traitorous thoughts. I am unaffected, I am the Shadowhand, lord of all spies and assassins. This is all just a physiological response, I can rise above it.

“Um, ah, shiesse, I didn’t--Jester didn’t say you would be here so soon or…” Caleb began while cringing. The familiar he kept gave a plaintive meow from where it sat on the edge of the tub.

“Forgive me, I didn't mean to intrude,” Essek said, his face surely a study of cool consideration. “Jester also didn’t mention that anyone else was partaking in the hot tub.”

Based on the flash of murderous intent on Caleb’s face ( enough to send a pleasant tingle down Essek’s spine but he could unpack that later) that had probably been the girl’s aim. Clever, Essek had to give it to her. If it hadn’t been him dealing with the aftermath, he would have applauded her keen maneuvering. Not many could take him by surprise.

“I can get out,” Caleb offered, eyes looking everywhere but Essek’s body. It made him feel better to know that Caleb was affected by him. Good, Essek thought. Better that than be at a disadvantage. If he played it like this, he could act like this had been his plan all along and could trick himself out of his embarrassment.

“No need, I’ll only be in for a few minutes,” Essek said, easing himself into the water. He was about two arm lengths away from Caleb at this point, enough to preserve propriety, but also close enough that Caleb hopefully didn’t read it as avoidance of him. The heat was immediately soothing on his back, and out of his mouth came a particularly indecent moan that Essek really didn’t mean and couldn’t control, and Essek began to wonder if it was possible for him to drown in the hot tub. He had read somewhere that it was possible to drown in a few measly inches of water. That seemed like a preferable option than continuing to live.

When Essek managed to look back at Caleb, his ears were bright red. Maybe they could drown together. That seemed oddly comforting.

“Ah...long day?” Caleb offered...what did the book of Empire sayings say again? An olive branch?

“Very,” Essek said noncommittally, looking at some of the bars of soaps that were held by the edge of the tub. Oils and soaps were in beautiful glass bottles as well. He suddenly saw Caleb offering a bar to him.

“I prefer this one,” Caleb said, having moved closer to offer the bar. His hands were larger than he remembered somehow, his nails smudged beneath with soot. Essek took it from his hand, trying not to touch any skin but his fingertips tingled anyways.

Essek rubbed the soap in his hands, building a lather. Immediately he was hit with the scent of blackcurrants and cypress wood, a heady delicious scent. He set the bar on the side in its dish, before running the soap up and down his arms, and across his chest. He tried not to think of the fact that he was now sharing Caleb’s scent and the inherent eroticism of that. He reached to get his back, but immediately hissed as the pain flared up again. He stopped, fingers digging into the side of the hot tub, the pain there doing nothing to distract from his spine.

“Shadowhand? Are you alright?” Caleb asked, and Essek felt a featherlite touch on his shoulder.

“Just...Essek, for now. Seems strange to refer to my title when I’m naked,” Essek noted. “It’s just my Luxon damned back.”

“Are you injured?” Caleb asked, and Essek looked back at him, rubbing his back.

“When I was young and impulsive I was injured trying to escape the guard...and to answer the next question I see in your gaze, I did get it healed...but I had waited two weeks to see a healer, and by that time there is only so much you can do.”

“Your den waited two weeks?” Caleb asked.

“I was brought into Den Theylas, this happened before that, when I was sixteen.”

“Sixteen hundred?”

“Now you are being facetious, no. Sixteen as in ten and six years old. I was sixteen...once, a while ago. Surely that is a sentiment you can relate to?”

“Yes, I do,” Caleb said with a mournful look. “You do foolish things when you are that young.”

“Yes,” Essek sighed, “yes you do. And you continue to pay for it.”

Essek leaned on the edge of the tub, working to slowly curve and straighten his spine to stretch it. It didn’t help. All he could do was sit there and wait for the warmth to ease it enough so he could go. He didn’t forget Caleb was there, he didn’t think it was possible to do so considering his presence was like the beating sun that only once in a blue moon appeared in the sky. It tingled on his skin with a strange intensity that was almost impossible to ignore.

“If--” Caleb’s voice caught on a strange edge. It was rough and heavy with his accent, the accent of the foreign lords and dirt poor farmers who all wanted the drow dead. And that accent should have been putting his body’s very inconvenient reaction on ice, but all it did was make this all the more...delicious. “If you’d like...I can try rubbing it out?”

I’m canoodling, Essek thought. I’m already canoodling, how much worse can this make it?

“If you wouldn’t mind,” Essek said, looking back at Caleb with his best smirk. Caleb looked like he was about to choke on his own tongue, but then Essek immediately paid for it with the sensation of Caleb’s hands on his back.

His hands were scorchingly hot, even hotter than the water. He had strong fingers, with callouses that dragged on his skin in a way that raised goosebumps. He pressed against the sore divot in his lower back and Essek nearly jumped out of his skin because it felt so good, rubbing out that terrible knot of pain that never quite went away. He ended up half melted against the side of the tub, arms cool in the night, dazedly staring at the familiar who was purring up a storm next to him.

This was worse, this was so much worse, because all Essek wanted to do was turn around and kiss this man silly. Essek found it in him to look back and met Caleb’s gaze. The blue of his eyes was dark, and sweltering and dilated. His lips were parted, and the water trailed down his neck so deliciously that Essek found himself leaning forward and--

“Are you two alright up there?!” Nott the Brave’s voice from the side startled them both. With an undignified movement, Essek jerked and smacked his forehead right into Caleb. Both of them yelped, Caleb grasping his head, and Essek grasped the side of his face (trying not to think about the scruff of his beard or the soft heat of his cheeks).

“Oh Luxon--yes, we’re fine!” Essek shouted at Nott before returning to Caleb. “Gods above and below, I’m sorry Caleb.”

“It’s--alright,” Caleb said, a laugh wrenching free from his lips. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Essek said rather dumbly even though he felt about five miles away from alright. Confused, aroused, infatuated, annoyed? All sounded a bit more true to life, but he was the Shadowhand and the Shadowhand was always alright.

“We should get out...are you joining us for dinner?” Caleb asked, hopefully.

Essek opened his mouth to refuse, but watching Caleb exit the water, all Essek could do was follow.

_____________________________________

“Is there anything else you require, my lord?”

Essek looked up from his reading and the wine that he had just received from his servant and shook his head. The servant bowed deep, and then exited the room. It was almost at that moment that the mirror in his room illuminated. The Bright Queen’s visage shimmered upon its reflective surface, and Essek bowed his head respectfully.

Essek gave his daily report to the Queen, who took it all in with only occasional comments or requests for clarification. After he completed his report, finishing on his business with the Mighty Nein and a summary of their most recent exploits, the Bright Queen laced her fingers together thoughtfully.

“I gave you to them to be their steward, Shadowhand, and so far you have done a remarkable job. As always, you excel in every regard.”

“Everything I do, I do to be of service to you,” Essek promised her.

“And great service at that, though I wonder at the personal cost,” the Bright Queen commented, the jab stabbing Essek. Though he betrayed nothing on his face, that much he was sure of.

“No personal cost, your majesty. I live to serve you,” Essek said.

“Do not get too attached, Essek,” the Bright Queen warned, before the mirror’s image faded and left Essek staring into his own eyes. He sighed, taking a generous sip from his own glass.

I think, perhaps, the advice comes too late. After all, even I have my own urges to quell. Essek thought, and then settled down his glass.

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