The Romancer Opalbane
Episode Twenty-Three: Al gets caught. Wisthera is next.
A day later, Onyxbane found an auspicious letter in his mailbox.
"Hey, Sara, look at this." He motioned for his girlfriend Wisthera to come over and look. It took her longer than usual to get up from the table where she practiced her leatherworking.
The envelope had been folded from heavy royal blue paper. As the recipient, Onyxbane's name had been written in the center of the envelope. But his name had been stylized in large blazing calligraphy. Every stroke was succinct, but when the dragging curls and loops of the letters did touch, the intertwining strokes looked purposeful, not sloppy. The entire thing was a work of art. Onyxbane's name and address had been done in brilliant gold ink, which neither he nor Wisthera had seen before.
"What the Legion… am I being summoned by the Prince of the Highborne or something?"
"Blood Elves," Wisthera corrected her boyfriend and raised an ivy green eyebrow at him. Her blue skin flushed with the scowl she made. "And though Silvermoon City is rumored to be beautiful, it belongs to the Horde now. You'll do well to remember that, love." Wisthera lay her head on Onyxbane's shoulder. "Who's it from? That script is so elaborate, I can't make it out—"
Wisthera's eyes went wide when she saw who'd sent it. She'd heard that Alessandre was a master forger, ontop of everything else… it had not occurred to her until recently that one could use the darker arts of the rogue profession for something good.
Onyxbane, always a bit of a meathead, rushed to open the letter and almost destroyed the beautiful envelope in the process. Annoyed, Wisthera slapped him on the shoulder. They both began to read the elegant print:
To the Honorable Onyxbane, heralded Warrior of the Alliance,
"You're honorable?" Wisthera teased.
"I'm heralded?" Onyxbane's thick white eyebrows rose at this.
You know of me though we have never been properly introduced. Two months and five days ago, I was sent to Stormwind to watch over your sister Priestess Opalbane while she recovered from being a cultist. Priestess Feathershine of the Temple of Elune and Master Rogue Shadowstep of the Cenarion Enclave wisely foresaw that your sister had enemies in abundance within the Human city. It was my duty, and greatest honor to have been assigned the task of protecting your sister from these villains. I am proud to say that as of last night, your sister has finally been freed from the clutches of the Twilight Hammer Cult.
I shall leave the details of the rescue at your sister's discretion.
"What the heck does that mean?" Onyxbane floundered. Wisthera ducked behind his shoulder to hide her wily smile.
I wish to inform you that while during my term as your sister's bodyguard (currently, my contract has not yet ended, though I shall be relieved of duty at the end of this month) I developed such powerful feelings in my heart that at first I doubted their existence. That is because the love I have for your sister is at once so profound and liberating that I thought it was a curse of fate upon me; but it is no curse dear sir—it is nothing short of a blessing from Elune.
"Huh? Why would loving my sister be a curse?" Onyxbane objected.
"Onyx, it's your sister Opalbane that we're talking about here. Besides, stop moving the paper every time you get confused. You're forcing me to read at your pace." She nagged.
"Are you trying to call me stupid or something?" Onyxbane the warrior objected.
Wisthera shushed him and they continued reading together.
I realize that it is customary for a couple to wait a year after being Wreathed before marriage is proposed. You can see from this letter that I am very much the traditionalist. However, my heart compels me to beseech you, here and now, for your sister's hand in marriage. I am well aware of your family history because of my mission. Thusly, it is appropriate for me to ask you as her last surviving male relative to grant me this honor. Though Priestess Feathershine is not related to either of you by blood I intend to ask her promptly as well, then marry Priestess Opalbane as soon as possible.
Ideally, I would have us married before the end of this week if it is agreeable.
I assure you that, even before becoming your sister's bodyguard, I have been a man of some means, and have a very respectable family background though none of my relatives still live. I hope that you will agree that I am a good match for your darling sister. I invite you to come to Darnassus and meet me in person if that will satisfy you. However, I urge you to do so soon because I will not suffer Opalbane to wait any longer for the love she deserves. I am certain that I can give her everything that she needs from a proper husband. I admit now that this letter is mostly a formality; my duty as a man insists that I deliver to Opalbane what love and attention is worthy of her regardless of other opinions. I shall forge for her a secure home and stable companionship befitting a woman of her station at my earliest convenience, with or without your blessing. Being a gentleman, however, your blessing will be greatly appreciated.
May Elune bless you and yours,
Alessandre, of the Kaldorei Rogue Network in Darnassus.
Onyxbane's eyes bulged. He sputtered for a solid minute before he could form a coherent sentence.
"Take a deep breath, now Onyx." Wisthera cautioned.
"He!" he inhaled sharply, "That! A rogue! My big sister is going to marry a rogue!"
"Onyx, dear, I don't think Alessandre has asked her yet. And do I need to remind you that you are dating rogue?" Wisthera admonished but couldn't help smiling at the news.
"But he is going to ask my Sissy, isn't he? With or without my permission? And he said 'thusly.' Who says thusly? Wisthera, you're a rogue… tell me about him? Is he safe? You said that he was safe!"
Wisthera bit her lower lip. "Yes, love, I did. I told you that he would make a great bodyguard for your sister when Feathershine asked. Don't you remember?"
"But… you never said that he would—"
Wisthera placed both hands on Onyxbane's heaving shoulders. He was breathing so rapidly he looked like he might hyperventilate. "Deep breath in… Now, I know Alessandre from a few months ago, as I explained before… and out. Good. Now take another deep breath in… And he's a little fast with the ladies—"
"Fast? My sister can't be with someone like that!"
"Breathe in!" Wisthera shouted at him. The happy squirrels and birds chirping all around them in Ashenvale fell silent at her outburst. Onyxbane nodded his head furiously and leaned on his knees. He inhaled deeply. "But I guess he really cares for her." Wisthera continued, "I can't believe that the Alessandre is actually going to get married! This is exciting… Now, breathe out."
Wisthera guided Onyxbane's breathing over and over until finally he calmed down. "You know, you are getting pretty good at the breathing thing." He told her.
"Yeah, just in time." Wisthera mused. Onyxbane helped her back inside the house. Once they were settled, Wisthera watched Onyxbane carefully, to make sure that he wasn't going to fly into hysterics again. Then she carefully said, "You know, we have to go see Feathershine now. There's no avoiding it."
"But I can't! When Feathershine finds out what we did… Oh, she's going to kill me!" Onyxbane pulled on the long white twin braids that fell over either side of his shoulders. Wishtera liked the way her boyfriend wore his hair. With the short clipped ponytail at the crown of his head in addition to the long barbarian braids, Onyxbane looked like a man always ready for a battle. It was a very good look for a warrior.
"For all your training and that expensive blue plate, and that stupid, stupid Reaper, the very least you can do is tell your mother--"
"Hey! Don't talk about the Reaper that way."
Wisthera narrowed her eyes at Onyxbane angrily. "You know very well this is more important than any of those things! Now, are you going to go and face your foster mother about this, or do I have to go all the way down there by myself?"
Onyxbane sighed. There was nothing more intimidating than a woman like Wisthera who always held all the cards. To make things worse, her many years as a con artist had paid off because she knew exactly how to use them. Especially her latest card… Onyxbane couldn't help but dote on his girlfriend for a brief moment.
"Fine. Get your coat Sara; we're going to Darnassus!" And Onyxbane rushed off to get their mounts ready.
The next day at the Temple of Elune in Darnassus…
Alessandre waited as long as he dared to hear word back from Onyxbane. There were only two days left in the week before Shadowstep shipped him off into the gaping maw of what felt like the Burning Legion itself to him: Stormwind. Shadowstep had made it painfully clear that he didn't care if Alessandre's Wreathe Day worked. He didn't care that the Twilight Cultists had withdrawn their secret spies from Darnassus, and their hungry agents from Darkshore. There were still important cultists to be taken care of back in Stormwind. Alessandre had not forgotten about Faltheriel's thugs. As long as Opalbane was living she would be a target for the Blood Elf and his Burning Legion, for whatever reason that was. Alessandre fully understood that the little Faltheriel problem was one that could only be resolved by cold-blooded murder. And there was no way in Outland that Alessandre was going to allow the victim to be his future wife. Not that he'd asked Opalbane yet… but he was hopeful that she would say yes.
Faltheriel's thugs and all their no good friends began leaving Darkshore in droves when the Twilight Cultists pulled out. Clearly, the cultists were the brooding, clever types and when all that brainpower departed, the meathead cutthroats were easily chased down by the Sentinels who got impatient waiting around for Shadowstep's rogues to do the job. As always, the Sentinels had excellent instincts when it came to protecting the homeland. That show of brute force sent the thugs running like nothing else. The Sentinels were merciless and even prevented them from using the Hippogryphs or getting onto the docks to sail back to the Eastern Kingdoms by boat. Many of them had run for their lives into the depths of Ashenvale where more eager Sentinels waiting in Astranaar, deranged Furblogs, or worse—the Horde—caught up with the pathetic ne'erdowells and cleaned them out of their respective territories. But the head of that snake was a Blood Elf moonlighting as a Highborne in Stormwind. Even though Alessandre longed to just marry the woman he loved and run away with her, he knew there would be no peace until Faltheriel was six feet under the earth. Besides, Alessandre was starting to look forward to getting rid of that disgusting elf.
Alessandre paused at the top of the long incline before the temple entrance. All the arrangements for the engagement had been made. Telling Priestess Feathershine was the only matter left before he asked Opalbane to be his wife. Seemingly unconcerned Sentinels stared straight ahead on either side of him. Until Opalbane, the Temple of Elune was a place that Alessandre always avoided. For him, it was the equivalent of a cutthroat avoiding Stormwind Keep. Blinding, shiny white justice lived within this holy place. The enormous statue of Elune holding a brilliant moonlit libation bowl over her head was a painful reminder of this. Alessandre thought about how he had come here to see Opalbane recover at the beginning of this week. He couldn't put his finger on it exactly, but he'd felt more welcome at that time. Now, however—and he dared to steal a look at the Sentinels on either side of him—he had a sinking feeling. Alessandre liked to trust his instinct. It kept him alive. And, he couldn't help recalling with a self-satisfied smirk, it had helped him to finally please Opalbane two nights earlier. It was good old instinct that had told Alessandre to succumb to his wildest nature, giving the angry shadowpriestess the raging lover she needed that night.
That was the giddy thought that possessed Alessandre when he crossed the threshold into the Temple of Elune. It was why he did not sense danger when Priestess Feathershine was not in her office. It was the reason why he did not feel fear when a kindly novice escorted him to a small confession room on the top floor of the temple, towards the back. It was the distracting passion he had for the shadowpriestess that caused Alessandre to stroll into Shadowstep's trap in a complete daze.
When Alessandre entered the tiny room, Priestess Feathershine stood from where she was seated behind a small marble table.
"Druid Mirothalas Shademoon." Feathershine announced in a clear authoritative voice, "Welcome to your trial. Please sit."
Alessandre crouched low, like a cat that was cornered and then went for the door. It slammed shut behind him. He went for the knob, but it turned by itself and locked. Master Rogue Shadowstep materialized out of thin air, his hand on the lock.
"I suggest you do as she says, Mirothalas." He sneered at Alessandre.
What else could he do? Alessandre sat on the stone bench opposite Priestess Feathershine. He looked for the kind understanding she showed when Alessandre brought her daughter safe and sound to Darnassus. All the gentleness had gone from the majestic woman's face. Only the righteous fury of the goddess remained.
Alessandre clenched his jaw tight, then joked bitterly, "What took you all so long? It's been one thousand years… even all my family is dead and gone, but justice doesn't age, does she?"
Priestess Feathershine did not soften at his joke. "No, she does not."
"Before you begin lying to us, Mirothalas," Master Rogue Shadowstep was careful to call Alessandre by his proper name. "You should know that I was busy doing as much research into your past as possible over the last two days. Maybe you've found a way to keep priests from looking into your mind before, but I know enough to tell whether or not you're lying."
Alessandre cursed under his breath. "I was so careful… how in Azeroth did you find me out?"
"A little birdie told me." Shadowstep answered vaguely. There was hardly enough space in the confession room for a person to stand comfortably, and there certainly wasn't enough for two people to stand shoulder to shoulder. But Shadowstep and Priestess Feathershine showed no signs of discomfort whatsoever. Perhaps it was part of the torture, Alessandre realized.
"Getting you to come here, though, was the tricky part. Trying to apprehend a murderer who part assassin part serial killer would be a task even Sentinels. But I intercepted the letter you sent to Onyxbane before it went to Ashenvale, and I knew that you'd have to come here next to ask Feathershine's permission. It was just a matter of time after that--"
"How dare you take my daughter's innocence, you filth!" Priestess Feathershine flared at Alessandre suddenly and cut Shadowstep off. "She will never recover from what you've done! How can you do this to her, after everything she's already been through in her life?"
Alessandre took a deep breath and waited for the angry Priestess of Elune and his irate guild leader to calm down. Worse yet, both were currently his employers.
"You can't pass judgment on me until you've heard the entire story, right?" he reasoned with them. Neither Night Elf gave any overt gesture of confirmation. It seemed that for both of them, even being polite was too much.
Alessandre sighed. "Let me tell you what I've been doing these last thousand years. I'll tell you everything." Then he finished grimly, "After I've told my story, you can decide whether or not death or your daughter will have me."
Priestess Feathershine's bottom lip quivered with emotion, and her eyes were wet. Alessandre was tempted to lean over the table and comfort her when suddenly the Priestess of Elune straightened and shouted at him, "Swear it! Swear it by the name of the goddess!"
"I swear," Alessandre recited, as he knew was custom, "by the divine power of Elune, that what I say is truth."
"We accept your oath." Shadowstep put in hurriedly from where he was leaning against the wall behind Alessandre. Under Priestess Feathershine's intense gaze, Alessandre forgot the Master Rogue was even in the room.
"By my judgment, you will either meet with Her divine wrath or mercy." Priestess Feathershine gave Alessandre the final warning. Those were but the traditional words, but she spoke them with such menace, Alessandre was starting to believe the rumors that Feathershine and Shadowstep were long-time lovers. There was so much of the Master Rogue's ferocity in this woman who was now Alessandre's jailor, judge, and jury.