"The Keepers of the Void" –A Fable III fanfiction
By Kelly Sedai
Chapter Two
"You may leave, Hobson," the Hero said, waving a dismissing hand in the butler's general direction. Hobson squinted inquisitively at Reaver and retreated, bowing his way out of the study and closing the door firmly behind him. She listened to his footsteps fade into the distance before speaking. He'd developed a terrible habit of eavesdropping as of late, which, whilst common amongst the maids, was not behaviour she expected to see in her personal serving staff. Nosey bugger.
"Reaver. I'm surprised you had the gall to return to the castle after your desertion. Or did it merely slip your mind four months ago that the Crawler was approaching?" She fixed him with as level a stare as she could whilst the gentleman made himself comfortable on the divan. He never acted like he was in the presence of a queen, instead treating her with a familiarity she welcomed, in a way. She should probably still consider imposing a penalty on him for improper conduct though. Bastard was getting too cocky.
"Ah, your temper is as fiery as ever, my dear. And dare I say it a tad more irritable. Your butler mentioned something of the sort to me. A rough night, was it?" He winked at her. Wanker.
"Keep on topic, Reaver."
"How terribly abrupt, ma chère¹! Did your mother teach you no manners?" He smirked. This was not her morning. "But I do believe I informed you of my unfortunate circumstances. I know my presence was sorely missed, but alas, I had matters to attend to that simply could not be postponed. If my absence distressed your Majesty that much, perhaps we could adjourn to more private quarters and… reacquaint ourselves." She couldn't even think of what to say to that. She simply stared. She should definitely consider the penalty; he could take a few weeks in prison. "Ah, but your Highness is still not quite recovered from last nights festivities, is she? Perhaps another time, my sweet," he said with a satisfied smirk. Why, why, why today of all days? Any other day and she would have thrown a witty comeback straight in his cocky, and even she had to admit, rather handsome face. Her brain felt like sludge. Thick, thought-killing sludge.
"Where were you, Reaver? A 'regular appointment' you said it was? What appointment could possibly be so important that you would defy the Queen's wishes and leave when you were most needed?" She was burning with curiosity.
"Every man has his secrets, dearest. I have no wish to divulge mine at this time." His face was perfectly serious now, an expression she wasn't sure she had ever seen Reaver wear. This served only to further intrigue her. The entire situation was terribly mysterious, and his reluctance to answer increased her desperation to find out more about the clandestine meeting.
"You would refuse to answer your queen?"
"You would push the subject?" His pistol was in his hand again, the Dragonstomper .48 twirling gracefully between his fingers. She couldn't push this line of conversation any further. He was at a clear advantage, his marksmanship legendary. And she didn't doubt that he would shoot if provoked. He was, after all, terribly fond of gunfire.
"Have it your way, Reaver. Is there something you actually wished to discuss or is this a social call?" The monarch could feel the familiar stirrings of anger. She was tired, she was hungry, she felt unwell, and she did not have the patience for this.
"I must commend your wise decision, my Lady." He relaxed again, lounging on the divan in a rather regal slouch, as if he were the King and she the visitor. The cheek of him! "As it happens, I had intended to visit the castle merely to report the delightful news of my return. However, that wretched hag of a seer decided a visit was in order, just as my carriage pulled into Bowerstone." He rolled his eyes dramatically.
"Theresa? As in Theresa the Seer of the Spire? She's in Bowerstone?" The young woman sat up straight, anger completely forgotten. Things were getting interesting again. "Wait, you know of her?"
"We are… acquainted." Reaver and Theresa knew each other? Well that was certainly unexpected. How long had they been acquainted, and how on earth did they first meet? She had a feeling asking would be an exercise in futility. Reaver spoke again. "Apparently my services are required again. And, whilst I simply loathe playing the part of messenger boy, she asked me to inform you that you are to find her underneath Bowerstone Market's clock tower at noon on the morrow, accompanied by myself. She also requested that I stay in your Majesty's vicinity, and that rooms be prepared within the castle for me." 'His services are required again'? What services and when had he provided them before? Why was he to meet the seeress with her? Any possible answers she could think of only raised more questions. She was certain of one thing, however: the idea of Reaver residing in the castle was horrifying.
"You are to stay here? In the castle? With your own quarters? I'll lose half my serving staff within day, and that is excluding the problems you cause with the maids!" That statistic may have been slightly exaggerated, but she could say without doubt that there would be a definite decrease in the castle's workforce.
"Such a high opinion of my charms! Well I need not have my own quarters, dearest. Your own rooms are certainly large enough for the both of us, and sharing, as one so often hears, is caring." The Queen snorted with laughter at that line.
"All this is irrelevant- How can I be sure that you're not lying? And why follow Theresa's wishes? You are clearly not the type to take orders."
"What can I say? I am a curious cat. And I wouldn't call it abiding by her orders, more that I am exploring my options. This could be a superb opportunity presenting itself, waiting to be grasped! And I must say that I am terribly wounded," his expression changed to that of mock distress. "I find it quite hurtful that your Majesty would think me capable of such deceit!"
"Forgive me, Sir. I had forgotten that 'honesty' was your given name."
"Quite alright, chérie². I could never hold it against you," he bantered with a grin. Ah, Reaver. If she wasn't so hungover she'd enjoy this conversation.
The Queen poured herself another glass of water. "Very well, I shall arrange for your rooms to be prepared as soon as-"
"No need, my love. I alerted your accommodating butler as he escorted me here. He should be back any minute to show me to them."
She spluttered indignantly, managing to knock the freshly filled glass over. "You ordered my butler to arrange rooms before even asking me?"
He arched an eyebrow. Most likely at her show of complete unrefinement. "I had no doubt that our most benevolent and hospitable Queen would grant me shelter. And Hobson, the excellent man that he is, was only too pleased to organise it. Ah, speaking of the man!"
Hobson appeared at the door. "Sir's rooms are ready and, hopefully, up to his fine standards." The portly man bowed slightly in Reaver's direction. "I am also pleased to inform your Majesty that the gunshots heard earlier injured no one, but our head chef has unfortunately decided to take a vacation for an indefinite length of time. It was all terribly impulsive, not like him at all. I wonder why…" the man trailed off, clearly puzzled.
"That's fine. Thank you Hobson. Also, I'll need you to send up a maid, there's been a minor spillage…" She looked sheepishly at the large, damp patch that had formed on the blue carpet.
He bowed again. "Of course, my Queen. Now, if Master Reaver would accompany me to his chambers."
Reaver stood, shooting her a winning smile. "Your warmth and generosity is much appreciated ma Reine³." He sauntered to the door, pausing at the entrance. "One more thing, my sweet. 'The dreams will come. Do not waver. Be unflinching. Be strong.' The Blind Seer's words, not mine. Tatty bye!" And with that, he closed the door behind him.
'The dreams will come. Do not waver. Be unflinching. Be strong.' She moved over to the hearth and stared into the embers from last night's fire. What dreams? She couldn't recall having any remarkable dreams lately. And what made these dreams so important? Theresa words had made them sound so menacing, so threatening. And what role did Reaver play in all of this?
Sighing, she moved back to the mahogany desk, resigned to completing the ridiculous amount of paper work that was stacked in front of her. Thankfully her headache had eased up a little. To think, only a few hours ago she had been dreaming of reliving the excitement of adventure, wishing for an escape from the drudgery of royal life. But this… This was different. She was not sure she liked where this was headed at all.
In case you didn't know the French:
¹my dear
²dearest/dearie
³my Queen
So that's another chapter finished! It seems awfully wordy though, I think it's far too dialogue driven. So constuctive criticism is valued (read: desperately needed.)
For those of you wondering, our dear Hero of Brightwall's alignment is good/corrupt.
Also what do you guys think of the fact that I haven't given the princess a name? Good idea, or do you think she she needs one?
Thank you to everyone who read the previous chapter, I hope you'll read and enjoy this one as well.
Aaaaaaaaaand I forgot a disclaimer at the start of the last chapter, but you guys know I don't own any rights to Fable or anything, right?