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105 - A Given
🕑 Added 2025-12-24 17:00:29 +0000 UTCZael watched Rafael calmly consider him—and the implication of his statement. Eventually, the Guildmaster shrugged. “Calm? Yes, I suppose I am. I see little point in panicking or rising to obvious provocation. So I choose not to.”
Zael raised an eyebrow. Choose not to? Emotions weren’t exactly something you could control. Though maybe for this man, they were.
But that hadn’t quite been what he had been getting at. He asked his question in plain terms this time. “Did you know all of that was going to happen?” The total placidity of the Guildmaster seemed to suggest something of the sort.
“I keep myself open to a great many possibilities,” Rafael said vaguely, “but I will not pretend I can see the future. Even the greatest oracles of history could not. What hope would I have?”
Zael eyed him. He wasn’t sure whether Rafael was trying to seem unflappable and all-knowing, or whether he truly did have that much foresight. His reputation did speak for itself.
Zael set all of that aside; in the end, it didn’t matter. He turned to Sari.
“Are you insane?” he asked.
The stubborn look that instantly appeared told Zael everything he needed to know, not that he was surprised.
“I only would’ve jumped in if I saw a way to help,” she said. “Even at my rank, I might’ve been able to create an opening for you.”
“Maybe at the cost of your life,” he growled.
“Trust me, I’m not trying to get myself killed.”
Zael closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Later. Not the time to have that conversation, and not least because they were being watched by Rafael.
“You didn’t need to use that scroll,” Zael told the Guildmaster. “I could have taken care of the situation myself.”
“I have no doubt you are correct, Lord Keresi,” Rafael replied. “Nevertheless, my honor demanded that I render aid.”
Zael doubted Rafael was being completely honest—if the Guildmaster had believed there was no chance of Zael losing, surely he wouldn’t have burned that scroll. Even the once Steward of Vanguard had to have a limited supply of consumables that powerful.
“What tier was it?” Zael asked. “I’ve never felt so…” Helpless was the word he wanted to use, but he trailed off, the idea of saying it aloud grating at him.
Rafael nodded and confirmed the unasked question: “A scroll given to me by Lady Vivisari. Don’t concern yourself with its value—such things are meant to be used. It served its purpose.”
Zael had suspected the explanation, but he still reeled. The idea that Rafael had burned a consumable so unbelievably valuable, a relic from another era created by the most powerful demon to ever live, for something so… mundane… pained him. He had no right to tell another person how to use what belonged to them, but he had to bite his tongue not to voice his outrage. What a waste, though.
“Now,” Rafael said. “I need to speak with the Guard Captain. I expect they’ll want to hear your recounting of events as well. After that, my attention will be fully yours.” He paused. “And though it goes without saying: thank you for your assistance.”
Zael merely grunted in response.
The incident’s wrap-up lasted half an hour. As Rafael had warned him, one of Meridian’s city guards jogged over to jot down Zael’s recounting of events, not that he had much to say. He figured the human’s rant explained the situation entirely by itself.
Zael could sympathize with how much the man had lost, but that hardly excused his actions. He wasn’t sure who ‘Lord Adventurer Barrow’ was, what his position in the Wardens had been, and what the authorities of Meridian would do with him, but Zael also didn’t care. None of this concerned him now that the threat had been dealt with.
He just wished he’d gotten a proper fight out of it.
One of the city’s mages was kind enough to cast [Tidy] on the three of them, though while that might’ve erased the bloodstains and dust smears, his uniform remained torn in places, with a particularly long slash across his torso. And a large, open hole on his shoulder. He had spare clothing stored away, but he honestly couldn’t be bothered. Maybe if he’d yet to meet Rafael, he would take the time, but Zael figured the debacle had broken the ice—no need to stand on formalities after all of that.
Once everything had been settled, Rafael led him and Sari to his office and invited them to take a seat. They did so, and Rafael situated himself behind the desk.
“Now, then,” the Guildmaster said, folding his hands on the wooden top. “I feel compelled to restate my gratitude. The situation could have turned out much worse for me if the heavens hadn’t intervened by putting you where you were, when you were, Lord Keresi.”
Zael waved his hand dismissively. “You are a friend of our house. Don’t thank me.” Doing so implied that he deserved acknowledgment. He’d done nothing worth more than a nod, and perhaps not even that. Allies defended each other. Only the slimiest, most craven of men wouldn’t have raised their weapons in that situation. “Besides,” Zael said, “you were in no real danger.” Rafael was too intelligent a man to walk around undefended when he held such a high position in human society—especially when recent events would have incited unrest in many of the members he governed.
“No real danger?” Rafael mulled over that claim. “Under normal circumstances, I can’t be perfectly protected. Artifacts, scrolls, and defensive spells can only go so far. The best level-unrestricted protections are bound by blood or have similarly stringent requirements. I have no ultimate artifact as the Royal Family does with their coronets, I can assure you of that. Scrolls and potions in abundance, but those require quaffing or activation, and I cannot match an orichalcum in speed. So ‘no’ real danger would be an exaggeration.”
“Under normal circumstances?” Sari quoted, focusing on a part of Rafael's statements that Zael hadn't given a second thought.
Rafael paused. He leaned back in his chair and considered her—then smiled, seeming pleased for some reason. “Sarielle Keresi. I keep myself abreast of most matters, including murmurings that don’t involve the human kingdoms directly. I’ve heard quite a lot about you by reputation.”
Sari tried not to let those words affect her, but her shoulders dropped an inch, and the interest on her face morphed into a guarded expression Zael knew well. He also tensed reflexively… until he realized, somehow before Sari, that of any demon in the world, Rafael’s calling attention to his sister’s reputation hadn’t been meant as an insult.
Which Rafael clarified a second later. “It is rare, after all, for one to be acknowledged for their wit in demon society without first having martial accomplishments to accompany it. I read your essay on a potential tax reform in Keresi territory. It was very insightful for one so young, and new to the field.”
Zael watched his sister be struck speechless. “You… read that?” She sounded equal parts horrified and, to Zael’s entertainment, flattered—if in a panicked way.
“Indeed. I was curious whether the reputation was deserved.” A friendly smile. “I came to the decision that it was.”
Zael had… mixed feelings, watching his sister’s face redden and her mouth work as she failed to find an immediate response. As always, he couldn’t approve of Rafael’s blasé disregard for Sari’s failure to raise her elevation, but at the same time, he was happy to see his sister be praised for her strengths. She had faced enough criticism for her failings; it wasn’t like more would somehow fix those problems of hers.
“Well. I—I see,” Sari stammered out. “Never mind that. I’m just wondering why you phrased it like that.” Zael took a second to realize that she’d retreated to the previous topic. “What happened out there might have been dangerous under normal circumstances, you said, given the constraints of level-unrestricted defenses… but does that mean that right now doesn’t qualify as ‘normal circumstances’ for you?”
Rafael tilted his head, a smile of a different sort playing at his lips. “I think you’ve formed a theory you’re merely looking to have confirmed, Lady Keresi,” he said with a deliberately neutral tone. “Perhaps you are scrutinizing my words too closely?”
She faltered, then regained her confidence. She lifted her chin. “I don’t think I am. I’ll ask you straight then. Can you confirm my theory?”
Rafael leaned back in his chair and didn’t respond right away, instead considering her with slightly narrowed eyes. As the seconds ticked by, Sari’s plain intrigue melted away into slack-faced incredulity—something approaching fear, even.
“No,” she whispered. “You… she was… really?”
“I’m afraid that I cannot know with true certainty what you are speaking of, Lady Keresi,” Rafael began politely, “and even if I did, I hold the confidences of many, and will not speak blithely about secrets that are not mine alone. Let me clarify: that is neither confirmation nor denial of any theory, yours or otherwise. I hope you understand.”
Sari gawked at him.
“What in the gods’ names are you two talking about?” Zael finally asked. He looked between the two other demons. Every individual word in that exchange had made sense, but clearly they were speaking in layers, and he couldn’t decipher even the first.
“It doesn’t matter,” Sari managed. “Never mind. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“Indeed,” Rafael said. “We are here to discuss Nysari Keresi.” For some reason, that prompted a noticeable twitch in Sari. “You asked me if I could get you two into contact with her?”
Still perplexed by his sister’s reactions and the preceding conversation, Zael studied Sari and Rafael suspiciously for a moment longer. At last, he shook his head and dismissed the whole thing. As Rafael had said, they were here for Nysari, and whatever cryptic nonsense the two were speaking about didn’t concern him. Sari had always been incomprehensible, and apparently that trait worsened when put in a room with someone similar to her.
“Yes,” Zael said. “Our cousin. Father seemed to think you could point us her way. Did she reach out at some point?”
“I have spoken with her recently, yes. And I can relay a message by the day’s end, though I can’t guarantee a response—or that she’ll come and meet you in person. From what I know, she is a busy woman.”
Zael’s brow furrowed. “I would hope my cousin would spare a moment to speak with family who traveled the continent to see her,” he said, not able to keep his incredulity from his tone. “But obviously, you have little say in what she does or doesn’t do.”
After a moment’s pause, Rafael said, “Indeed. Your father… truly gave no explanation for why he sent you here?”
“Only that Nysari might need our help.” He shrugged. “I was going to ask if you had a guess.”
Rafael idly tapped his desk a few times before replying. “Knowing the Primus, I suspect his motives were merely symbolic. To offer support regardless of whether he thought it would be needed.”
Zael grunted. That was the conclusion he’d come to as well, and why he thought the odds were high that after they met and spoke with Nysari, the woman would dismiss them and they would be on their way back home before the week’s end—if not the day’s.
“Whatever the case is, I—” Zael began, but he was cut off by an abrupt influx of mana.
A few paces to his side, a girl popped into existence. Or… not a girl. A woman, but her tiny stature confused Zael for a moment. She wore black robes and wielded a staff of gnarled wood—obviously a mage. Like many demons in Meridian, she had no red tattoos swirling around on the pale skin of her face, and as usual, Zael disapproved of the sight.
“You were attacked?” the short woman emphasized, her tone somehow demanding an immediate explanation while remaining utterly calm. “What do you mean you were attacked, Rafael?”
The Guildmaster looked at Zael, then Sarielle, then back to the newcomer. He smiled. “Ah. Lady Nysari. We were just speaking about you. I didn’t expect you to… teleport into my office when I was hosting guests.”
The woman paused, then looked at Zael and Sari. Zael had half-stood in surprise, because, unlike for Rafael, a mage teleporting into their midst was more than enough to startle a reaction out of him. He’d reached for his axe.
Sari had jumped all the way to her feet and was actively gawking at the woman. But she’d been acting weird the entire time, and he had no more idea why now than before, so he continued to ignore her behavior.
Nysari.
This was his cousin?
He found that hard to believe. He understood a child might not always look like their parent, but Nysari shared nothing appearance-wise with Uncle Malziel. The entire Keresi clan leaned toward the tall side, and while Nysari wasn’t the shortest woman Zael had ever seen, she was certainly competing for the title. More importantly, her face and horns were nothing like Malziel’s, or anyone else’s in the Keresi family.
“I… apologize for interrupting,” Nysari said to Zael and Sari after a moment, but then she turned back to Rafael. “Never mind a meeting. You were attacked.”
“The situation has been handled, I assure you. There is little of value to say about the event.” He cleared his throat. “This is Zael and Sarielle Keresi. Your cousins.” He gave her a significant look. “I was just assuring them that I would notify you of their presence. How serendipitous that an earlier meeting has been arranged without need for formalities.” For some reason, the last sentence sounded sarcastic.
The woman stared blankly at Rafael. Rafael visibly tried to communicate something with a smile and a subtle, repeated flick of his eyes toward Zael. Sari remained gawking at Nysari with no apparent explanation.
Zael was tired of not understanding what was going on—and clearly being the only person in the room who was in the dark. Some of that annoyance leaked into his voice. “Cousin. I’m glad to see you well, but I must ask: where are your tattoos?”
Nysari paused, then touched her cheek by reflex. “My tattoos?”
Sari frantically nudged Zael in the side, trying to communicate something, but he ignored her. His sister had mentioned that Nysari might have spent a long time in human lands and adopted some of their customs, but to ignore her heritage and walk around with a naked face? Maybe he should have kept his mouth shut, but, combined with everything else happening, the sight aggravated him. He waited for a response, not softening the question or retracting it.
After a silence that stretched a full five seconds, Nysari finally spoke. “I’ve… hidden them temporarily. I… don’t mean to be rude, Zael and Sarielle, but I need to speak with Rafael. Alone.”
Zael felt his spine stiffen in offense. “Excuse me?” Sari began tugging on his sleeve desperately and trying to hiss something under her breath, but Zael shook his sister off and glared at her before facing Nysari again. “We’ve spent the week charging across the human kingdoms to see you, cousin. I would at least expect—”
“No,” Sari announced loudly, stepping in front of Zael. “It’s fine. Please, Lady Nysari. Speak with the Guildmaster at your leisure. We take no offense. We’ll be outside when you need us.”
Zael stared incredulously at his sister, but the girl bowed—bowed—toward Nysari and began pulling him by the wrist. Only from sheer disbelief did he allow himself to be tugged from Rafael’s office.
Outside with the door closed behind them, he found his voice again. “Sari, what in the world is going on?” The plain disbelief, nervousness, and confusion on Sari’s face had cooled his irritation, if just barely.
“I don’t know,” Sari answered, almost panicked. “But. Please trust me, and just… be polite to Lady Nysari.”
“Cousin Nysari,” he pointed out.
“Y-yes. Cousin. Either way.”
“You obviously know something that I don’t.” His tone was flat and exasperated. “Explain. What’s happening?” He wished he could figure it out himself, but he couldn’t.
She hesitated before responding. “I would, Zael, but I don’t know if I should.”
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know if I should. Or if I’m even right. I think I have to be, but Rafael never actually…” She shook her head. “No, I’m definitely right. Please just trust me.”
It was difficult to not get frustrated with that request, but it was also something Sari almost never asked of him. He worked his jaw back and forth, then nodded stiffly. Sari seemed relieved.
“Let her speak with Rafael, and we’ll see how this goes,” she said. “I think it’ll work itself out?” It was more question than statement.
Though aggravated, Zael put his faith in his sister and did as she’d asked. Nysari’s conversation with the Guildmaster didn’t last long. Ten minutes later, the door opened, and Rafael invited them back into his office. Zael walked in, highly suspicious.
“Sorry for kicking you out like that,” Nysari said, addressing Zael first. “I needed to understand what was going on.”
Zael grunted in amusement. That made two of them.
“I’ve been told that you defended Rafael from the man who attacked him,” she continued. “One of the officers of the Wardens. I want to give you my personal thanks for that.”
“Any person with an ounce of honor would have reacted as I did,” Zael said, trying to keep his tone neutral, but it came out annoyed. She was a Keresi. She should understand by default how much of a given his defense of Rafael had been—how beneath praise it was.
And also, why would Nysari thank him for fighting on Rafael’s behalf? Were the two that close? He’d thought them acquaintances at the very most.
A faint smile pulled on the woman’s lips at his response, which Zael could tell, without knowing Nysari, didn’t happen often. Her inexpressiveness was nearly disorienting. “Maybe so,” she responded. “Either way, as far as I’m concerned, it proves you can be trusted.”
He bristled at that, since there was an implied insult in the statement—why wouldn’t she trust her family?—but Nysari continued before he could say anything.
“Rafael also thinks you’ve pieced it together,” she told Sari. “So I see no reason not to shed the pretense.”
The woman waved a hand over her face, and an illusion dissolved to reveal red lines running down her cheeks from eyes to chin.
Embarrassingly, Zael’s first thought wasn’t a revelation. Instead, his knee-jerk reaction was even more incredulity and annoyance bordering on outrage. Because Nysari was already nothing like what he’d expected for being Uncle Malziel’s daughter, or a Keresi in general, but appropriating the Sorceress’s own tattoos? That went far beyond the pale.
Then, because he wasn’t completely hopeless, the realization slammed into him.
All of Sari’s strange behavior. That meeting with his father, where Mizar had first sent him sprinting across the continent. Nysari’s odd origin, and how neither Zael nor Sari had somehow ever heard of their cousin. And Rafael’s involvement. All the details, big and small, clicked together.
Yet even with the evidence right in front of him, a part of him refused to accept reality. He stared at the diminutive woman standing next to Rafael, her expression serene, red eyes bored as she waited for him to react.
“Rafael told me that your father sent you two to help, if I needed it,” the woman continued, when several seconds passed and all Zael responded with was speechless gawking. He understood now why Sari had been doing so much of that. “And I think I might, actually. Though the decision is yours, and you surely have your own plans for your future… Vanguard is recruiting. Perhaps you’re interested?”
Zael gaped at the woman. He looked at Sari, searching her face for some sign that this was a joke, then at Rafael. And finally back at the woman wearing the Sorceress’s tattoos. Then one more round of the same. Trying to digest the offer she’d just made.
Eventually, he got his mouth working again.
“What,” he said.
Comments
Argent Twig
Happy Holidays. May you receive the five gifts every writer can have. 1) New stories are always in the journey, 2) Growth in authorship comes with every word, 3) That Faith in yourself with clear eyes sustain you, 4) You have readers that look for the next words, 5) There is no true wrong in writing. Paul Valery said "Art is never finished, only abandoned." No word is wasted, even those edited are part of the journey. Your readers have faith.
Undead Writer
TFTC!
