“Young Gathbin sought the Yenwood’s crown Long past the revolution~”
My brother in Abydon, I literally have the help of the Crucible Knights, an Ogre Tribe, a Readceran warband, 10,000 pands worth of veteran mercenaries and your own Captain of the Guard. You are going to die.
Pillars of Eternity Lord Gathbin plot, but he tried to woo the Watcher as Plan A of reclaiming his family’s land. One-sided Gathbin x Watcher; neither have feelings for each other, but Gathbin’s a hoe-
'Milady, I sense that a new guest just arrived at the barbican.'
Said "Milady", Maraia Nyrael, was currently preoccupied with one of the books from the keep library's extensive collection. Actually, a couple of old tomes her two scholarly friends, Kana Rua and Aloth Corfiser, reccomended to her.
'Huh, curious.' She said as she feigned interest in the topic.
Normally, she would be a bit more ecstatic at a new guest's arrival; new faces mean more stories from different parts of Eora. It means new things to learn and new souls to read, a little skill she grew to ...enjoy using.
Especially when she sees her guests' faces afterwards, such a delight.
But not right now. She buried her nose in the old tome, she was determined to finish reading this one, even if she were to stay awake till the morning and earn a scolding from Edér.
'Aren't you tired of sittin' like that, 'Raia? You've been at it for few hours now. The Steward's stone lap can't be THAT comfortable.' She heard the large blonde man say from above her. He was leaning on the throne, one hand laying on the the Steward's shoulder, the other holding his trusty old pipe.
There it goes. Not quite what she anticipated, but that doesn't matter right now.
'Enjoying this one, are we?' Maraia grinned at the elven wizard, his steps ringing on the stone flooring.
'Aloth, don't encourage her.'
'Yep! Thank you for showing me this one! Oh, I gotta show you what Llengrath sent me some time ago! A couple of her old scrolls on the arcana, surely you'll find these helpful with your studies.'
'Eothas dammit, you've indoctrinated another one? At least you're not talking with ghosts anymore.' Edér mumbled under his breath.
'It's not indoctrination, Edér, it's a book club.' Aloth and Maraia said in unison, after which Maraia added 'Just need to finish reading this chapter, then we can go annoy Durance together, Edér.'
'And talk with the new guest. Please, don't forget about that, Milady.'
Just as the Steward finished uttering the sentence, the large double door opened with a thud. The three kith hastily turned their sight towards the entrance.
Rays of sunset light seeped into the Main Hall, bathing the spacious room in warm light. The guest strolled in, head held up and chest puffed, exuding a gallant and confident aura. One could faintly smell expensive Aedyre perfume as he strolled through the hall.
The man was oppulently dressed, or at least as much as one can be when travelling through the forests and meadows of the Dyrwood. Aedyre robes peeked from underneath the long, emerald green cape. His luscious sandy locks cascaded like waves onto his shoulders, shining like gold in the sunlight.
He stopped just before the stone throne of Caed Nua, but just enough to tower above the keep's owner. Maraia shifted in the seat, cluthing the still-open tome in her hands, looking at the guest with a confused, questioning gaze.
Before she could open her mouth to inquire about his visit, the man hastily kneeled down, his head hung low and golden locks obscuring his eyes.
'Lord Arledr Gathbin, tis a pleasure to meet you at last, my Lady. I've heard quite a lot about you.' He said in a deep, honeyed, yet posh tone as he took one of her hands in his. He brought the tanned hand to his lips, but the Lady took it away just as quickly.
'Oh really? My, my, you're acting overly familiar, mister. Strolling towards the throne like it's yours!' She gave him a cheeky grin, but all he felt was a cold rush down his spine.
Maraia gazed at him softly, but there was an eerie, dark, uncanny gleam in her eyes. As if her gaze bore right through him, down to his very soul.
Aloth and Edér could feel her gaze, even if it wasn't directed at them. This cold, uneasy feeling akin to being watched, observed in the middle of the night while alone.
They both knew that stare oh so well, when she would try to read their souls in the past. But they both knew that what Maraia did right now, it wasn't at all malignant. It was just her curiosity of this stranger. They were used to it, their other friends were used to it, that Readceran commander the woman met sometime ago and started writing with was accustomed.
Only the guest wasn't.
'Please, don't mind her. She likes to... space out at times.' Aloth said, a sheepish look on his face and long ears reddening.
'Such imprudence!' she cooed as she poked his nose softly. That gleam in her eyes may be gone, but Lord Gathbin could still feel his stomach tied in knots at the sight of her smirk.
He looked to his side, sweat trickling down his forehead.
He needed to turn the tables, and quick, lest the Lady and her goons try something.
'Pardon, my Lady, if I caused you any discomfort with my actions. Alas, I am but a man struck with awe and adoration for your person. Please, hear out this foolish man's request.'
With that, he took the old tome out of Maraia's hands. Before she could protest, Arledr tossed it aside, never bothering to lay it down with proper care nor checking if it landed safely.
Once the book hit the stone floor, the hall went completely silent, an utmost suffocating atmosphere permiated the room.
Edér hastily covered Aloth's eyes with his large hand, yet it was all in vain. The Elf's face already went chalk white.
He was frozen at this complete disregard and desecration of something as priceless, sacred as old books. At this lack of etiquette. At what he worried Maraia would do next...
'What a charmer.' The large blonde man took a puff of Whiteleaf out of his pipe, his voice wavering. Aloth only cursed under his breath.
'I beg of you, my dearest Lady, for your hand in marriage. I know that this may seem quite abrupt, but I assure that my intentions are nothing but noble and pure.' He leaned down to once more place a kiss on her hand.
'...That was a two-hundred-year-old tome one my friends wanted me to read. I didn't even get to leave a bookmark. If there is even a single bent page, a single dog ear that Iselmyr didn't leave...'
'I'm terribly sorry for that, Milady. If there is anything I could do...' Lord Gathbin kept a radiant smile plastered on his face, yet he could feel his eyelid twitch.
This plan was suppoused to go smoothly. He was sure that his beauty and charm could woo any woman, yet alone "the lady of the keep", that stupid wench.
Especially when he made sure that the long travel wouldn't leave his robes in an unpresentable state. Yet all she cared about was that old book. As if it trurly belonged to her.
In his mind, at least, this was a way to reclaim what rightfully belonged to him and his family. Who cares that it was all a ruined, haunted mess, not worth anyone's time, before that woman came along.
'Yes, yes, I know. It's just that for an Aedyre of noble origin, you lack of manners is appaling.' The yound woman ran her tanned hand through her brown hair. She soon continued her monologue.
'Most Dyrwoodans, as... unruly as they may be, never barge into somebody else's home. They don't walk like they own the place. They don't discard other people's personal belongings with such lack of care. Oh, and they definitely don't try to take away somebody else's hard work just so they earn some praise from their drunkard father.'
'You-' Lord Gathbin could feel color wash away from his face. Just how did she know?
Unless... no, she couldn't be one of those filthy Glanfathan mind hunters, could she? The woman's clothing and accent indicate that she comes from Ixamitl. So how...
'Atta, boy, I think it's time you leave.' He could feel the Whiteleaf-stinking blonde grab him by the arm.
'Get your disgusting hand off my arm. That robe costs more than your entire backwater land!' Gathbin scowled at him.
'You should probably listen to my drea friend. Besides...' Both Edér and Lord Arledr turned their feads to her. She let out a rather sinister-sounding chuckle. '...this place isn't as safe as you may believe.'
The hall that was bathed in the warm light of the sun just a moment ago was now drab and dark and grim. The only light, as scarce as it was, came from the weird orbs that shone dimly with a purple hue. And then, there were screams, a cacophany of heart-shattering wails.
Gathbin couldn't remember much as he ran outside the keep's gates.
His lungs burned from his shallow breaths. But he had to run, as fast as he could.
Specters, purple of color, trailed behind him. One could hear their maddened wails of terror and eternal suffering all over the keep.
...Yet he could swear he weard the wails stop as soon as he ran through the barbican's gate.
Back in the Main Hall, there was a young woman sitting on the throne. Barely. She tried to gasp for air, yet her laughter made it quite a hard task.
Edér was stuck in a similar predicament, wiping a stray tear off his cheek. The old pipe was laying aimlessly on the floor, warm Whiteleaf ash scattered on the flooring.
Only Aloth wasn't laughing, instead taking the old tome into his hands. Some of the pages were bent.
Yet it wasn't Aloth, really.
'Fye, ye coulda let me know ye needin' some help, lass. Not do dis horseshit.'
