Chapter 30
Praefect
"Simply put, I doubt that the citizens of Ceya-Tar are willing to allow Ayleids to remain within the city," Dynar said, his voice echoing softly off of the caverns beneath the city.
"Of course not! Consider all they've done to us!" Tari said bitterly, her fingers tightening slightly in Telepe's tunic as he led her across the slick stone floor, tentatively feeling her way with her toes. "Not only were we fodder for Arcanalata's experiments, but our children were also used for Hadhuul's twisted hunts. We were also gleefully tortured on a daily basis, given the most taxing and dangerous tasks to complete, and horrifically abused if we failed… or even if we succeeded. And the common citizens simply stood by and watched, at best! To say nothing of those that participated in it!" She shook her head fiercely. "No. Those are not crimes that are easily forgiven. What's more, I also firmly believe the Ayleids would try to recapture the city as soon as our army leaves, especially should Arcanalata return with her guards. There shall be no peace so long as they are permitted to remain in the city."
Telepe chewed on the inside of his cheek as they passed by a deserted slave pen. The caverns were where most of the slaves in Ceya-Tar had been kept, so long as they weren't in service to one of the noble households, where they might be permitted to sleep in a hut or barn outside the manses. Bronze bars had been driven into the walls to keep the slaves caged in one of the corners of the caverns while they slept on beds of filthy straw. It was one more reminder of how Ceya-Tar had treated their slaves particularly cruelly, even by Ayleid standards. Telepe had seen slaves treated worse in other cities, but Tari had once said that the men in Ceya-Tar were seen as lower than animals. The more he saw of the city, the more inclined he was to agree with her assessment.
"Then the issue becomes what we're to do with the Ayleids," he said slowly. "We can't exactly execute them all-"
"Of course we can. Leave Pelinal alone with them in a chamber for ten minutes. Then we'll simply need to wash out what's left," Tari spat viciously.
Telepe waited for a few seconds after she finished speaking, and then he continued in a measured tone, "I believe the most prudent option is to exile them. Send them west, and allow only the humans to live in Ceya-Tar."
"Mm. Yes. I also believe that is the wisest choice… provided they don't meet the Ayleids from Atatar," Dynar pointed out, shooting Telepe a sidelong glance. "Were they to stumble across King Glinferen's clan, they could rally together and march on the city…."
"I feel the chances of that are quite low," Telepe replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. "For one, we exiled the elves of Atatar months ago. This group would be hard-pressed to find a clan with a lead of several hundred miles, at least. Assuming that Glinferen didn't get his clan killed altogether attempting to cross the desert."
"Well… that's a fair point," Dynar admitted. "Even so, we cannot continue to simply send defeated clans westward. There must be other options."
"Certainly. I'm open to suggestions," Telepe replied calmly.
Dynar grimaced, then slowly glanced away. "I… shall begin considering alternatives," he said weakly.
Telepe suppressed a smile, then turned to look down at Tari. "By the by, how deep into the caverns was Arcanalata's workshop?" he asked.
"Though I cannot be certain without my sight, I believe it should not be much further. The air has become quite cool, and I recall that her workshop was rather cold," Tari replied. "When I hear rushing water, I shall know that we are near. She liked having a fresh source of water for her potions." She then grimaced and added, "I should apologize for the vague directions. If I could still see-"
"You needn't apologize," Telepe assured her gently. "That was a good idea you had, thinking that she might have notes about the gate in the White-Gold City hidden somewhere in Ceya-Tar. Since we didn't find any in the temple or the palace, it stands to reason that she might have stored them in another workplace… if there are any."
Tari nodded quietly and closed her fingers a little tighter into Telepe's tunic. Telepe swallowed and glanced away, ignoring Dynar's curious look. He had become much more conscious of Tari since she had kissed him in the glade, especially since she had not left his side since she had lost her sight. Still, he had yet to speak with her about it. They had more pressing matters, after all, such as deciding what to do about Ceya-Tar's leadership and the fact that Tari was still blinded. When they had more time, perhaps they would discuss it, but for now, he felt it was wiser not to bring it up.
"Ah! Her workshop should be just ahead," Tari announced suddenly, snapping Telepe out of his musings. He glanced ahead and noticed a small stone bridge stretching across a narrow chasm with a small cave stream rushing through it. Across the bridge was an open workspace set up on a crude stone dais, complete with a heavy desk and a chair sitting on an ornate woven rug and a pair of stone shelves containing alchemical instruments and dried ingredients.
Telepe nodded and began leading Tari across the bridge slowly, guiding her carefully across the slick stones so that she wouldn't lose her balance. As they approached, however, they were all startled by a loud bark. Tari's eyes widened, and a slow, delighted grin began spreading across her face.
"No! I had thought for sure…!" Tari whispered as joyful tears started to fill her eyes. She suddenly began pulling Telepe across the bridge, and before he could stop her, she clambered onto the dais and whistled sharply. A moment later, a large, furry figure charged from around one of the stone shelves and barreled into her, knocking her to the ground. Telepe was momentarily alarmed, until he saw Tari laughing happily as a beast hovered over her, licking her face furiously and barking madly.
The creature in question was a large hound, standing about as high as Tari's chest. Its short fur was a patchwork of brown and black spots speckled across its predominantly white body, with a large black patch stretching from the top of its head down its back and along the base of its otherwise white tail, which was wagging furiously. Its ears hung to its jaw, and its deep brown eyes were entirely fixated on the young woman it was licking.
"Down, Sparicus! Down!" Tari laughed, pushing the dog's massive body off of her. The dog reluctantly began backing up, though it continued to lick her face furiously, until it saw Telepe and Dynar approaching. Its ears went back, though it didn't growl at the pair, instead watching them silently and cautiously.
"You know this dog, I presume?" Telepe asked easily. He extended the flat of his hand towards the hound, which tentatively sniffed his fingers before giving him a curious lick.
"This is Sparicus," Tari explained, pushing herself slowly to her feet and feeling around again for the dog. When she found it, she dropped to her knees and began scratching his ears happily, which made the dog lean into her more, almost knocking her onto her back again. "He's a tracking dog that Arcanalata used to sniff out rare herbs that were otherwise difficult to find. I used him on occasion when I had to search for ingredients in the dark."
"Then he's trained?" Dynar asked, extending his own hand out. Sparicus let out an indignant huff at Dynar's approach and reluctantly sniffed the elf's hand before turning around and pressing his heavy body into Tari again, much to Telepe's amusement and Dynar's annoyance.
"Highly," Tari replied, pushing the dog off of her and wrapping her arms around his furry neck as he sat on his haunches and panted happily, his tail wagging rapidly. "In fact, he can be ordered around Ceya-Tar with a simple command. So, if I need to travel somewhere, I needn't solely rely upon your aid, Telepe," she added. "I can simply order Sparicus to walk somewhere and let him lead me."
"It's no trouble," Telepe assured her as he began inspecting Arcanalata's desk. "However, if you're more comfortable relying on Sparicus, I shall not be offended." He tilted his head as he picked up a papyrus scroll and unraveled it, though it only contained an alchemical recipe to treat rockjoint that was of no interest to him.
"Is there anything of value here?" Dynar asked as he glanced over a wax tablet with runes written on it.
"There doesn't seem to be, unless Tari wants her recipes," Telepe sighed, setting down the scroll. "Either Arcanalata knows nothing about the gate in the White-Gold City, or she's been very careful to leave behind nothing relating to the subject."
"Which would not be unlike her," Tari admitted reluctantly, still scratching Sparicus behind his ears. "My apologies. It was only a faint hope that she had left something behind, and admittedly one that I did not truly think would come to fruition."
"There was no harm in looking," Dynar assured her gently. "And it's not as though you did not gain anything, yes?" he added, smiling down at the hound she was clinging to.
"…A fair point," Tari conceded, smiling lightly as she pushed herself to her feet, keeping one hand on the dog's back. "Back to the palace then?"
"Indeed. And now we get to address the question of who should reign over Ceya-Tar," Telepe sighed. "If they won't accept an elven ruler, then we shall have to choose from the humans." He glanced over his shoulder and added, "Tari, do you have any thoughts?"
"Sparicus, palace," Tari said sharply to the dog, who immediately pushed himself up and began following Telepe and Dynar. Tari kept one hand on his furry body and walked beside him, letting him guide her. "In truth, no one comes to mind," she admitted, staring blankly down at the stone floor as they walked.
"Were there any slaves with administrative experience? Did anyone perhaps work as a clerk or a scribe?" Telepe suggested.
"No," Tari said firmly. "None of us were taught to read. At most, we might occasionally be told to deliver a scroll or a tablet. Even I was only trained to gather and prepare herbs. Arcanalata never trusted me to write down recipes for her, and everything I knew, I gleaned from watching her. Most of us were used for the most mundane and dangerous of tasks, and nothing that required us to use our minds. After all, what good would it do to teach an animal to read?" she scoffed.
Telepe sighed and ran his hand along his face, scowling to himself. "I suppose that we could send a message to Arpenia. Perhaps they might have a few secretaries that they could send to help manage Ceya-Tar's administration in the interim," he muttered.
"What about a leader, though?" Dynar suggested, glancing over his shoulder at Tari as he adjusted his green chiton. "Was there anyone who was admired by the slaves, who organized them and protected them from their captors?"
Tari bit the corner of her lip uncertainly. "In truth, I am not the one to ask about that," she admitted softly. "I was kept apart from most of the other slaves during my service to Arcanalata. Rarely did the other slaves speak with me… especially considering what I was often instructed to do to them."
"Perhaps Orina would be willing to stay and govern the city, then," Dynar suggested as they began to climb out of the caverns. "If Edanu trusts her enough to lead an army, then she might be able to oversee the kingdom."
"Orina has a solid grasp of tactics and commanding men, but she does not know how to procure provisions or write laws," Telepe replied simply, shaking his head. "I've seen her with the men. If Edanu sets her to a task, she carries it out well enough, but I fear that she does not have the ability to oversee a kingdom. Especially one that she does not have any connection to."
"Well… that's true," Dynar admitted with a sigh as they emerged from the caverns, briefly putting his hand over his eyes to shield them from the bright sunlight. "Ruling a kingdom is not simply a matter of managing a territory. A good king must understand and care for his people." As he lowered his hand, he suggested, "Perhaps we should retain an Ayleid advisor or two?"
"No Ayleids," Tari said firmly. "That is the opinion of every slave in Ceya-Tar, I assure you."
Before Telepe could respond, he felt something tugging at his sleeve. He turned around, and to his surprise, saw a young Nedic girl in a slightly dirty chiton holding a wooden bowl of gruel out to him.
"Excuse me, sir," she said quietly. "I was uncertain if you had eaten yet."
Telepe blinked at the girl in surprise, and he smiled gently, replying softly, "I don't need to eat, my dear. Nor are either of my companions hungry, right?" he added quickly, glancing at Dynar and Tari, who both nodded in confirmation. "But thank you," he added, turning back to the girl. "You may return that to the palace. Find someone who needs it more than us."
"The palace?" the girl asked, her tone politely curious. "I did not get this from the palace, sir."
Telepe tilted his head slightly. "No?"
"The palace cooks have only been giving food to the soldiers garrisoned here. Akripa feared that the people of the city would not be fed, so he opened the granaries and began cooking porridge for us," the girl explained.
Telepe and Dynar traded intrigued looks while Tari let out a soft, thoughtful hum. "Would you be so kind as to lead us to this Akripa?" Telepe asked gently.
The girl blinked at them curiously, then nodded and began leading them down the street towards the central plaza. As they neared the center of the city, they began passing humans sitting on the side of the road, cradling wooden and clay bowls filled with steaming hot gruel. When they reached the plaza a few minutes later, they were greeted with the sight of hundreds of men and women crowded around a makeshift, open-air kitchen. Four large, bronze cauldrons were seated on low fires, filled with bubbling, boiling grains. Eight cooks flitted around the cauldrons, occasionally throwing in dried vegetables and fungi from burlap sacks.
"Queue up!" a gruff voice bellowed over the chatter of the townsfolk. "None of you shall starve, but you all need to wait your turn! You're not savages, no matter what our former masters said! Act like it!"
Telepe kept his hand on Tari's back as he and Dynar began to weave their way through the crowd. They received a few dirty looks as they gently pushed past the men and women, who clearly thought they were trying to be fed first, but Telepe ignored them and continued to ease his way through the throng. When they finally reached the middle of the crowd, Telepe was surprised to see a familiar figure barking orders from the center of the circle of cauldrons.
He had only met the old man once, but Telepe still remembered the leathery skin laced with scars, the corded muscles, and the fingers missing from his left hand. As the old man turned to one side and revealed that he only had one ear, Telepe let out a soft chuckle of recognition.
"Akripa, was it?" Telepe asked, his voice rising above the roar of the crowd.
The old man snapped his head around, his brown eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What? You'll be fed like all the others, boy! Wait your turn!"
Telepe smiled lightly and inclined his head. "Forgive me. However, when you've finished with these citizens, I would like to request a moment of your time."
The man glared at him, but then his expression faltered, and a look of confusion replaced his irritation. "You seem familiar…." he remarked slowly. Then his eyes lit up with recognition. "The emissary? Well. I had thought you would have returned to your homeland by now, elf."
"Much has happened," Telepe replied indifferently. "Suffice to say that I'm working on behalf of the rebellion now-"
"So it would seem," Akripa interrupted with an irritable snap, his scowl returning as quickly as it had vanished. "Did you have something you needed, boy? If not, I have dozens of other mouths to feed, and I don't have time to bother with one that's more interested in speaking than eating."
"Were you the one who organized this feast?" Telepe asked, motioning to the steaming cauldrons.
"Someone had to," the old man snapped as he ladled an oarful of oats, beans, and barley into a rough wooden bowl and handed it to a thin young woman standing to his left with her hands extended. "After your men rampaged through our city and slaughtered the garrison, they retired to the palace and the barracks, and since then, we've hardly seen hide or hair of them, save for the occasional patrol strutting through the city as though they own it." When Telepe raised an eyebrow, Akripa sighed and plunged the oar into his cauldron for a moment, leaning on it heavily. "Don't misunderstand me. We're grateful that you overthrew the masters and secured our freedom. However, the least you could have done afterwards is see to it that we're provided for after you upended our lives. Bear in mind – we're former slaves, accustomed to taking orders, not acting on our own. A few of us had not eaten in two days. One does not simply loose a flock of tame sheep into the wild and expect them to survive for long."
"In that case, on behalf of the rebellion, allow me to beg your forgiveness," Telepe said, inclining his head. Akripa was right – he made a mental note to remind Orina that occupying a city meant more than simply defeating an enemy army.
"An apology would be wasted if we had gone hungry, wouldn't it?" the old man snorted. "It's a poor way to endear yourselves to us."
"In truth, part of the issue was that we were still attempting to establish leadership for Ceya-Tar now that the ruling dynasty has been overthrown," Telepe admitted. As he spoke, he noticed a cluster of bowls on a nearby table, and he sidled over to the table to grab one. Akripa glared at him until he held it out for the old man to fill, and after frowning for a moment, he did so, whereupon Telepe handed the bowl off to someone in the crowd, before grabbing another. Akripa scowled at him, but allowed Telepe to continue distributing bowls as they spoke.
"Did you intend to install a new ruler, then? One of your own?" the old man scoffed. "Of course. We trade one master for another…."
"If necessary. However, we first wished to consider whether there was a local leader who might look after the kingdom," Telepe replied. When the old man frowned at him suspiciously, Telepe added, "The rebellion's goal is to liberate, not to conquer. Most of the cities that have been captured by the rebellion have had their leadership replaced by a citizen of that kingdom. Preferably one who is literate, but at the very least, a local figure that the citizenry admires."
"You'll be hard-pressed to find someone like that here," the old man remarked bitterly. "Our masters never deigned to teach any of us to read, and there is no one here who I would call a true leader."
"What about you?" Telepe suggested casually as he handed a bowl to a redheaded youth.
The old man stared at him for a moment, then let out a short, mirthless bark of a laugh. "I'm no king, boy," he growled.
"No, I don't believe you are," Telepe agreed. "But you are a leader. For instance, when you saw your people were going hungry, it was you that fed them."
"Any fool with access to the granaries can fetch a meal," the old man retorted shortly.
"Can, yes. But you're the only one who did," Telepe countered. "You didn't wait for food to be provided as the others did; you provided it for your people yourself." A slight smile spread across his lips as he added, "And this isn't the first time you've taken it upon yourself to see to the wellbeing of your fellow citizens, is it?"
"You believe so?" Akripa asked indifferently.
"I seem to recall that you were looking after that young man when we were traveling from Ceya-Tar to the White-Gold City," Telepe pointed out. "You were trying to teach him to survive under the slave masters, were you not?" When the old man remained silent, Telepe smiled and added, "Speaking of, I haven't seen him since we returned to the city. How is he?"
"He's dead," the old man answered curtly. Telepe's smile faded immediately as the old man explained, "Worked to death by the slavemasters. He was convinced until the end that the rebellion would arrive shortly to liberate us all," he added, giving Telepe a pointed look.
"I see," Telepe said quietly, swallowing. "My condolences."
"Such is the nature of our lives," the old man replied coldly.
"Yet despite the difficult nature of your lives, you still sought to make it more tolerable for yourself and your fellow slaves," Telepe pressed. "That is precisely the sort of person that this city needs now."
"I am no king," Akripa repeated in a low growl. "And I would say that Ceya-Tar has suffered enough under the rule of kings."
"Then it needn't be ruled by a king," Telepe said as he held out another bowl for the man to fill. "Perhaps another title would be more fitting." He thought for a moment, then added, "Perhaps a praefect instead?" When Akripa frowned at him in confusion, Telepe explained, "It's a term from my homeland. A praefect is a leader who is not of royal blood. They're an administrator for a city who oversees its governance without sitting on its throne. Would that be more amenable?"
"Call it what you like, but-" Akripa began.
"But the point still stands that Ceya-Tar needs a leader," Telepe interjected. "If you believe your fellow citizens are sheep that have been unpenned, then they require a shepherd to guide them before the beasts set upon them. And they need a shepherd who knows their way of life, their needs, their desires. I concur with you that the leader should not be selected from the rebellion. It must be one of Ceya-Tar's own." He set down the bowl in his hands and fixed the old man with a level stare. "You shall not accept an Ayleid ruler, nor one of the rebellion's. So, can you think of any other candidate in Ceya-Tar that you would trust to lead your people?"
"…No," the old man admitted reluctantly.
"Then would you allow this kingdom to fall into chaos and ruin?" Telepe continued.
"I would not," the man growled, his eyes flaring with anger. When Telepe continued to gaze at him, he let out a slow sigh, then added, "However, neither I nor any other human in Ceya-Tar knows how to administer an entire realm."
"That can be taught. And help can be provided," Telepe assured him easily. "We did not bring scribes or secretaries with us on this expedition, but there are former slaves in the rebellion who did serve as advisors to Ayleid kings. They would defer to you, and would be more than happy to assist you in establishing laws and overseeing trade. It would take only a few weeks for us to send for them if you wish. In the meantime, there is more than enough food from the harvest to keep your people fed. What's more, you know these people. You know who among them are the farmers, the craftsmen, the healers, and the fighters. You can direct them to perform the tasks they are most adept at, and in doing so, you can surely keep this city alive, yes?"
Akripa gave a slow, deep sigh, then held up his hand. "Enough! Enough. Let us speak of this later. When I have ensured that all of our people have been fed, we may discuss the future of this city in more detail. Until then, continue distributing bowls until I tell you to stop."
"As you say," Telepe agreed easily, unable to keep a slight smile off his lips as he handed another bowl to Akripa. The old man glared at him, then shook his head.
"I should have sent you away when I had the chance. I should not have allowed you to keep speaking," the old man muttered irritably as he spooned another helping of gruel into the bowl. "That tongue of yours is dangerous. Given enough time, I fear that you could convince me to do something truly outrageous, like wed my father."
"Indeed? Is your father around? I'd very much like to speak with him," Telepe quipped.
Akripa glared at him threateningly, and Telepe burst out laughing, holding up his hand to assure the old man that he would remain silent, and then he turned around to resume handing bowls to the crowd.
"By the right of conquest, you and all your descendants are henceforth banished from the realms of Cyrod," Akripa announced, standing above the gates to the city, with Pelinal at his left and Telepe to his right. Assembled before him were over ten thousand Ayleids, the former elven inhabitants of Ceya-Tar. All carried small bags filled with what food and clothing they could carry, and none were armed with anything larger than a knife. To ensure that there were no attempts to riot, over five hundred Nedic and Nordic soldiers surrounded them, all armed with spears and bronze plate, and all seeming almost eager for the elves to protest.
"Don't weep," Telepe heard a man near the gates comforting his sobbing wife. "One of the other cities shall surely take us in."
The woman looked up at her husband and managed a weak nod through her tears. Telepe, however, doubted that they would find refuge in any of the other kingdoms. He recalled that Ceya-Tar's cruelty did not just extend to its own slaves, but to the other city-states as well. Hadhuul's aggressive wars had earned him quite a few enemies, and even those that he had never fought likely knew of his reputation. As with Atatar, there was little chance that any of the other kings would be willing to accept refugees from a kingdom that was so hated and feared. The exiles were likely to continue walking until they left Cyrod altogether.
"You cannot do this!" another elf suddenly shouted. Cries of agreement began filling the air, and the crowd of Ayleids became restless. Akripa glanced at the men surrounding the crowd and gave a slight nod. Immediately, the warriors lowered their spears threateningly, and the shouts almost immediately died down.
"As I stated, by the right of conquest do we dictate these terms," Akripa repeated, a much harsher edge to his voice. "You are in no position to negotiate."
"You would tear us from our homes and cast us into the wilds because of what our former king did?!" another elf demanded. "What have we done to deserve this cruelty?!"
"And what did we do to suffer yours?!" Akripa bellowed back, his eyes wide with rage. He nearly pitched himself over the battlements, gripping the edges of the walls tightly as he glared down at the elves, some of whom flinched at the sheer fury in his voice. "Answer me! What sin did we commit that permitted Hadhuul to light our children aflame and loose beasts on them for sport?! What crime was so great that the witch Arcanalata could justify forcing foul toxins down our throats and gleefully watching as we suffered unspeakable pain and horrific visions?! And you ask what you did?! Pray tell, when Hadhuul threw our children to the beasts, how many among you cheered and feasted?! While we writhed under Arcanalata's torment, who among you blithely observed, noting our reactions as though you were watching a cat toy with a mouse?! Almost all of you kept us as slaves, as little more than beasts! The kindest among you merely used us for grueling labor; the worst of you were as depraved as Hadhuul himself! Perhaps there were those among you who did feel guilt or pity, but not one of you protested!
"And yet you dare claim that my sentence is cruel?!" Akripa demanded, letting out a scoffing laugh as he ran his rough hand over his face. "If the Parvant's champion had his say, you all would have been slaughtered to the last!" Beside him, Pelinal gave a cold nod of affirmation. "There were those among my people who felt we should inflict upon you the same tortures we suffered! They claim that justice would never be served until you had felt all that we have over the centuries! I had to restrain them from dragging you below the earth and torturing you until you had gone mad! Merely banishing you is a mercy!"
A heavy silence hung in the air as the Ayleids looked uncomfortably around at each other. The red slowly faded from Akripa's scarred face, and he took a deep breath and straightened up. "However, if you do not believe this sentence to be merciful, then I shall grant you a glimmer of hope. The Paravant's emissary tells me that if you continue west until you reach the sea, you should then turn north or south. If you travel on those directions, you may find salvation in the forests of the Bosmer, or in the courts of the elves of the highlands, beyond the vast western desert. They might provide you with a new home, a place of refuge. However, you shall never again be permitted to settle in Cyrod." His eyes narrowed, and he added, "And should we catch wind that you dared settle in this realm, we shall hunt you down. No divine or daedra shall save you from our vengeance." Akripa suddenly let out a slow breath and pointed towards the jungle behind them. "Now, begone!"
There was a long pause as the Ayleids hesitated, considering whether to obey his command. When Akripa motioned to his soldiers, however, and the phalanxes began advancing on them, the elves immediately began hurrying down the path and into the jungle. The flood of Ayleids soon became a trickle as the forest swallowed them, and in only a few short minutes, the last of the elves had faded into the trees. Akripa let out a long, slow sigh as he gripped the white battlements, his eyes lingering on a spot on the ground below.
After Akripa had remained silent for several long moments, Telepe chose his words carefully. He decided not to ask if Akripa was alright or to try to find any words of consolation, as he suspected that those would only enrage the new praefect of the city. Instead, he asked, "What is the next item on your agenda that you would like to address, praefect? There is the organization of the militia, the assignment of your workers…."
"Before we do anything else, I believe that the citizens deserve a respite," Akripa replied, finally pushing himself away from the battlements and turning to face Telepe. "This is the start of a new era for this city, and we should take the time to acknowledge that before we move on. I know that some of us wish to celebrate, while others would like to reflect and mourn all they have lost."
"I see. In that case, perhaps a feast is in order," Telepe suggested, folding his hands behind his back. "With fewer mouths to feed, Ceya-Tar now has a surplus of food, so it wouldn't be a strain on your resources. I also concur that it would provide a sense of closure for some, and mark the beginning of a new era for others. It's a fine idea."
"Very well. Let's schedule it for this evening," Akripa stated, turning around and walking off the walls, though he still seemed to be brooding.
"…It will also allow your people to celebrate your coronation," Telepe added airily.
Akripa rounded on Telepe, opening his mouth furiously to retort, until he saw Telepe grinning mischievously at him. Realizing that Telepe was teasing him, the old man sighed and rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. "I am no king. I am merely a praefect," Akripa repeated. When Telepe's grin softened and he nodded in agreement, Akripa exhaled slowly, then looked away, folding his wiry arms over his chest. "Though… that said, I suppose this would be a good opportunity to ensure that our people know who to ask for guidance about their tasks."
"Very good," Telepe nodded, folding his hands behind his back. "Then shall we head for the palace and inform the cooks?"
Akripa and Telepe spent the rest of the day organizing the feast – deciding on what dishes to cook, determining how much food was needed to feed the city, and arranging for entertainment. Akripa found the entire process tedious, and he became even more irritated when Telepe pointed out that such mundane tasks were the bulk of the day-to-day schedule of a ruler. Even so, between the two of them and a few runners, they managed to prepare for the feast and spread word around the city before nightfall.
The feast was held in the central plaza of the city, at the foot of the palace. Telepe privately thought it rather fitting, considering that it was the same location where Akripa had arranged the impromptu meal for his people just a few days prior. However, this time the citizens were not merely given bowls of gruel. Instead, they dined on fresh olives and cheeses, thick bowls of vegetable stew, fresh, slightly tanned wheat bread, sweet fruits and berries picked from the jungle, and both rich red and tart white wines. Pasare and her scouts had also managed to track herd of deer that had been wandering near the city, and they had felled a few of the bucks, so the former slaves were even able to enjoy thin slices of venison, which was the first time most of them had ever tasted meat. It was the richest meal many of them had ever enjoyed, and several overindulged to the point that they made themselves sick.
As they ate and drank, musicians played flutes, lyres, and drums, and those that weren't feasting were laughing, singing, and dancing together. The atmosphere was merry, though there was a slightly somber undertone to the festivities. An air of uncertainty hovered over the celebration, and as Telepe wove his way through the crowd, he overheard more than a few slaves openly worrying about the future. Would the other Ayleid kingdoms seek retribution for their successful uprising? Who was going to protect them? Even if most of them trusted Akripa, could he truly lead an entire city-state? Who would help him? Who would help them? Who would tell them what needed to be done in their day-to-day lives? Most of them were so used to simply following commands that they had little independent initiative. And most chilling of all, if they were defeated by the Ayleids and subjugated once again, how would they be punished for their rebellion?
However, despite the undercurrent of concern, most of the citizens seemed willing to put their worries aside for one night and simply enjoy the feast. Akripa helped ease the tension by walking amongst the crowd and talking with the newly freed citizens. Though he still maintained his gruff, terse demeanor, it was clear that he cared deeply for the men and women of his city. He encouraged anyone who had worries to share them, so that he could assuage them as best he could, and though he didn't smile or laugh with the others, he did share drinks and encourage his people to eat and enjoy the festival to the fullest.
A leader wandering among his people during a feast rather than enjoying it from the shadow of the palace was something Telepe found rather unusual, though since Akripa continued to insist that he wasn't a king, he supposed it made sense for the old man to avoid acting like one. What's more, his people clearly appreciated the opportunity to speak with their new leader, and they also seemed to appreciate that he walked among them as an equal, rather than looming over them like a god. Telepe had shadowed him for the first hour or so to offer Akripa his advice if he needed it, but when it became clear that the old man didn't need his help, Telepe had quietly taken his leave and set off to enjoy the feast himself.
After finishing a plate of food, he was considering whether to listen to the music or to get something else to eat when he heard a loud bark resound over the dull roar of the crowd. Turning to his left, he spotted Tari hesitantly descending the steps of the palace, one hand on Sparicus. Swearing under his breath, Telepe dashed up the stairs and took her other hand to steady her, squeezing her fingers when she momentarily struggled against his grasp.
"It's me," he said tightly to calm her. As she stopped pulling away from him and nodded, he added, "What are you doing? You should be resting."
"I've been resting all day. It's maddening being alone in a silent room, unable to even see the walls around you," Tari replied shortly. "And I heard a commotion outside, so I figured the festival you mentioned earlier had started. I wished to join the celebration."
"My apologies. I was going to come fetch you in a bit," Telepe assured her, giving her hand another light squeeze. He let out a light laugh as he added, "I suppose I should have figured you wouldn't be content to wait until then, though."
"This is the celebration of the end of Ayleid rule in my homeland," Tari replied tartly. "I intend to enjoy as much of it as possible."
"As you wish," Telepe smiled, gently helping her down the last few stairs. "Did Moralasil wish to join you? We can retrieve him as well if he'd like."
"He felt it wiser to remain in the palace," Tari replied, brushing her fingers over Sparicus' head to scratch his ears in thanks for helping her down the steps. "He said that though Ceya-Tar is currently in a jubilant mood, the people might turn hostile if they saw an Ayleid walking the streets right now."
"Sadly, I don't disagree with him," Telepe sighed. "Come. Let's get you some food, shall we?"
Telepe led her over to the tables and explained what was available, then gathered what she wanted and guided her over to one of the open benches so that she could sit and eat. As he'd already eaten, he simply sat quietly beside her, listening to the music while she worked her way through her meal, occasionally tossing a scrap to her dog. No matter how much he was fed, Sparicus continued to whine plaintively for more, much to Telepe's amusement.
"Look at this! And here I'd thought she had left the city altogether," a voice suddenly remarked to Telepe's right. He frowned and turned to see a trio of brawny Nedes hovering near the bench next to them, glaring at Tari.
"A pity she didn't stay gone," another of the group remarked. "It's not as though she's welcome here anyways."
"Can we help you?" Telepe asked coldly, pushing himself up from the bench.
"You? No, we have no quarrel with you," the third Nede remarked. "The only one we're speaking to is that witch behind you."
"Then you do have a quarrel with me," Telepe retorted, folding his arms and drawing himself up to his full height, so that he stood half a head taller than the tallest of the trio. "Begone."
"You'd defend her?" the second Nede scoffed. "You must not know of her. Are you not aware that she brewed foul poisons and forced us to drink them?! What's more, she enjoyed watching as we suffered unspeakable pain and madness!"
Telepe glanced over his shoulder and noticed that Tari had stopped eating. She was staring blankly down at the ground, her hands trembling slightly at the trio's words. Snarling, he turned back around and snapped, "From what I understand, that was Arcanalata's doing, not hers."
"Arcanalata might have given her the command, but it was her hands that mixed the poisons, that forced them down our throats!" the first Nede barked.
"Truly? And how many times did she make you personally suffer?" Telepe asked coolly.
The trio hesitated and glanced between each other uneasily. "That's irrelevant!" the first Nede finally retorted. "Our people suffered thanks to her actions!"
"So, if your master ordered you to whip another slave or be slain yourself, would you refuse?" Telepe asked bluntly. By now, the shouting of the Nedes had attracted a small group of onlookers, who were whispering to one another as the four argued. "And would you consider yourself to blame for carrying out their orders out of fear of punishment?"
"That's not the same!" the third Nede protested.
"Don't bother arguing with him! Of course he'd take her side! Look at his ears!" the second Nede suddenly exclaimed, pointing at the side of Telepe's head. "He's an elf too!"
"He is! Your kind isn't welcome here either!" the first Nede agreed. He stooped down to pick up a small stone as Telepe stepped back. When he slung it at his face, Telepe's hand quickly snatched it out of the air as he glared at the Nede. The crowd of onlookers let out gasps as Telepe let the rock fall to the ground, where it clattered across the cobblestones. Privately, Telepe was almost as surprised as they were. His reaction had been pure instinct, and he had grabbed the stone out of the air almost before he was aware of it. Apparently, his training and adventures had honed his reflexes more than he had realized.
"G-get out, elf!" the second man repeated, slowly backing away from him.
"He is as welcome in this city as you are. You would dishonor a guest like this?" a harsh voice demanded. Telepe and the three men turned to see that Akripa had forced his way through the crowd and was standing with his arms folded, glaring at the trio of men.
"Akripa!" the third Nede cried. "He's no guest! He's an elf! No doubt a spy that-!"
"He's half human, and he's a loyal servant of the Paravant," Akripa interrupted with a stern scowl. "Worse, you dare cast stones at one of your own sisters?"
"Her?! She's Arcanalata's servant!" the first Nede exclaimed. "She's poisoned-!"
"Yes, she did. Nothing shall change that. Those she poisoned suffered by her hand, no matter how she wishes to justify it," Akripa agreed, casting a glance at Tari, whose head bowed further, her blank eyes were fixated on the ground. "However, she is clearly attempting to atone for her past actions. Based upon what I was told by the Paravant's champion, she's sacrificed her eyes for the sake of the rebellion. Even before that, she's fought in many battles on behalf of the Paravant, and worked to rescue dozens of slaves so that they needn't suffer as we have." He looked back up, pinning the trio of Nedes with his gaze. "Those actions are far more important to me than what she did while she was chained and forced to work under a cruel taskmistress."
"But she still-!" the first Nede protested.
"If you cannot forgive her, then so be it," Akripa stated with a note of finality in his tone. "However, you shall not harm our guests, and you shall not raise your hand against your own kin. Do I make myself clear?"
The trio glanced at each other, then reluctantly skulked away. Telepe watched them depart with his arms folded over his chest, and as the crowd began to disperse, he approached Akripa, giving him a slight nod.
"Thank you," he said softly.
"If I am meant to lead this city, I intend to keep order," Akripa replied shortly, frowning up at Telepe. "Nor shall I allow the foolish to disparage those who are sacrificing themselves to earn our freedom. There's no need to thank me."
"Even so, it is heartening to see a ruler who is unafraid to enforce justice rather than show favoritism," a gruff voice growled. Telepe turned to see Pelinal approaching them, flanked by four other warriors as he idly gnawed on a strip of roasted venison. "King or no, you act more regally than most who were born with a crown upon their heads."
"Perhaps we should find new kings, then," Akripa remarked simply, inclining his head. "Well met, champion."
"Well met indeed, praefect," Pelinal replied with a jerk of his head. He then turned to Tari and added, "Has your vision improved, girl?"
Tari slowly shook her head, though she did raise it and turn her gaze in the general direction of Pelinal's voice. "I still can't see anything beyond a blinding haze of white light," she admitted. "Though Moralasil has stated that my vision shall return in time, I do not know when."
"Hmph. Loath as I am to defer to an Ayleid, he would know better than either of us," Pelinal said almost gently. "If he feels your sight shall return, then remain patient, and rest until then. We still have need of you."
"Wait… what happened to her eyes?" one of the warriors slurred behind Pelinal. Telepe glanced past him and scowled as he saw Plontinu, clearly heavily drunk based on his swaying stance and lopsided grin.
Pelinal glowered at the swordsman as Huna quickly spoke up, "Do you recall? When she read the Elder Scroll, the price was her vision, albeit temporarily, it seems."
"Oh… that's a pity," Plontinu muttered. Then his head snapped up and lolled to the side slightly, an almost thoughtful look on his face. "Is there any way that she could read it next time that would allow her to retain her sight?"
"Unlikely," Pelinal replied shortly, pushing the last of the venison into his mouth and speaking around it as he chewed. "Only a few beings may view an Elder Scroll without ill-effects. Perhaps a great hero, or a being of prophecy. A Shezzarine, for instance."
"A Shezzarine?" another of the warriors that Telepe didn't recognize asked.
"The manifestation of Shezzar, the protector-god of mankind. An avatar, if you will," Pelinal explained. "Some prophecies claim that in times of dire need, a Shezzarine shall walk alongside mankind, fighting on their behalf to aid them in a great trial, or to help fell a powerful enemy."
"So… you, Whitestrake?" Plontinu asked.
Pelinal stiffened at Plontinu's question, then slowly turned to face him, his bright blue eyes burning with fury. "I am not," Pelinal stated shortly.
"No?" Plontinu pressed. "You appeared from nowhere and pledged your loyalty to the Paravant, expressly stating that you were fighting on behalf of mankind. You are stronger than any man or mer alive, and you wield abilities unlike any we have ever seen."
"Plontinu…." Telepe warned, noticing how Pelinal's face was growing increasingly red. Plontinu ignored him and continued talking, and Telepe's stomach sank with every word.
"In fact, that white light you cast from your hand… what is the nature of it, exactly? Now that I think of it, I would almost call it a divine light." Plontinu grinned drunkenly as he put his hand on Pelinal's shoulder. "I've little doubt that you could easily read an Elder Scroll! Surely, you are a Shezzarine!"
Pelinal slowly took hold of Plontinu's hand and lowered it from his shoulder. Plontinu suddenly gasped in pain, and Telepe noticed that the knight was gripping Plontinu's fingers so tightly that they were turning white. "I shall warn you once," Pelinal growled. "Hold your tongue and do not blaspheme further."
Plontinu yanked his hand out of Pelinal's grasp, sucking his breath in through his teeth as he waved it out to relieve the pain. "Agh! Very well! By the gods, you nearly broke my hand!" He gingerly inspected his swelling fingers, then looked up and smirked. "As expected from a Shezzarine, wouldn't you say?"
Pelinal stood stock-still, then closed his eyes and slowly inhaled. Nodding once, he turned and walked off, leaving the others glancing between one another in nervous silence. Plontinu, however, seemed blissfully unaware of the tension in the air as he announced, "In any case, I think I'll fetch another drink! Tari, I pray that you recover swiftly!"
"Ah… thank you," Tari murmured. Telepe could tell from her tone that she had been listening intently to the exchange, as she sounded as nervous as he felt. As Plontinu staggered off, she muttered under her breath, "Fool."
"But a well-meaning one, I suppose," Telepe sighed. He then took a seat on the bench beside her. "In any case, I'm sorry about those three that were harassing you. How are you feeling?"
Tari hesitated, then slowly lowered her head. "My worst fears have come to pass – my own kin hate and fear me for all I did as Arcanalata's apprentice. Yet… the pain is not as severe as I feared it might be. Though it is still agonizing, knowing that is what they truly think of me, I suppose that eventually it shall pass. For now, though…."
"Do not let the opinions of the aggrieved trouble you too much," Akripa chimed in, stepping a little closer and lowering his voice. "I recall that those three were quite bitter when you were freed, while they remained captive – and they were not the only ones. They saw your good fortune as unjust, and as they suffered the continued torments of our masters, they focused especially on when you were forced to mix potions for Arcanalata. Their envy likely led them to begin blaming you for her crimes. Justified or no, it's their way of alleviating their own pain." The old man straightened a bit more, then added, "However, as I said, you needn't dwell on their opinions. When you were freed, you could have fled the realm altogether, yes? Left us to our fate? Instead, you joined the rebellion and fought on our behalf. All the proof we need of how much you're willing to sacrifice for us can be seen in your eyes. Even if they don't say it, you have our gratitude. Ceya-Tar will always be your home, Tari, and you shall always be welcome here. Rest assured, you're one of the finest daughters of this city, and we owe you a great debt that we can never truly repay."
Telepe glanced down at Tari in time to see tears welling up in her eyes. She nodded once, brushing the wetness away from her cheeks, then murmured, "Thank you… praefect."
Akripa nodded, then looked over at the crowd in the center of the plaza as the musicians finished one of their songs. A few of the crowd members applauded, and then a voice shouted out, "Let's hear something else!"
The musicians glanced to each other, and then one called back, "What would you like to hear?"
"Something new!" another crowd member chimed in, and though there were a few laughs, there were also a few murmurs of agreement.
As the musicians glanced at one another uncomfortably, Telepe was struck with a thought. He pushed himself up, gently squeezing Tari's shoulder as he said to her, "Will you excuse me for a moment?"
"Where are you going?" Tari asked, glancing around and reaching out for him.
Telepe, took her hand and lightly squeezed it to reassure her as he smiled to himself. "I'm simply going to answer their request for a new song. Give me a moment?"
Tari paused, then lowered her hand and nodded. Telepe smiled at her, then turned and slipped through the crowd, threading his way towards the musicians, who were still muttering to each other. Two of the eight Nedes noticed him approaching and blinked at him curiously as he smiled and inclined his head towards him.
"I had a thought for a song they might like. May I?" he asked, motioning to one of the unused lyres laying at their feet.
The musicians traded curious looks, but then nodded. "We don't mind, but what's the song?" one of them asked. "If we know it, we'll play with you."
"Well… the words are new, but you might be familiar with the tune. I borrowed it from an old Nordic song," Telepe replied. He hummed a few notes, and the band members' eyes lit up with recognition as they nodded. Telepe grinned at them, then turned around to face the crowd, who were watching the exchange curiously.
"Good evening," Telepe announced, raising his voice so that the audience could hear him. "I am Telepe, an emissary working on behalf of the Paravant. On behalf of her rebellion, I would like to state how pleased I am that we were able to successfully work together with you to secure the freedom of Ceya-Tar. We would not have triumphed over King Hadhuul and his men were it not for your aid during the battle. You have fought hard to win your liberty, and the sacrifices of both the living and the fallen shall not be forgotten.
"However, while this battle was a victory for us, the war still rages beyond these walls," he continued, his eyes raking across the crowd, most of whom were giving him their undivided attention. "There are still thousands of slaves waiting to be freed, and we require your continued support to ensure freedom for everyone in Cyrod. Even so, the tide is turning against the Ayleids, and I'm certain that the day will soon come that slavery is eradicated from this realm. This song is a rallying cry for that day."
Telepe glanced over his shoulder at the other musicians, who were waiting patiently for him to begin. With a nod, he began playing a slow three-note progression to introduce the song's familiar tune. After he finished the first few notes, the other band members joined in, the music of their flutes, drums, and horns mixing with his lyre. When Telepe finished the first stanza of music, he turned to the crowd and raised his voice to sing:
Men of Tor! Men of Sard!
Men of all of Cyrod!
Heed the call of the skies and the seas!
As the waves crash and flow,
As the fierce tempests blow,
Rend the yoke, break your chains, and be free!
Seek the flag flown by she
Who received visions three,
And is blessed and beloved by the gods!
Lo! The knight made of stars,
And the winged minotaur
Bend the knee to the Queen-ut-Cyrod!
As the music swelled, Telepe let the melody play for a bit as he watched the audience, still stumming his lyre. Some in the crowd were dancing to the tune, while others were simply humming along. To his relief, he didn't notice Pelinal anywhere – he had feared the knight would be enraged by the previous verse. His eyes then fell on Tari, who was nodding lightly to the music. Telepe smiled to himself as he slowed his tempo and sang:
Come, brave sons of Shezzar!
Sound the bold drums of war!
Take the blade, and the shield, and the spear!
For, now caught in the path
Of mankind's righteous wrath,
Hark! The vile slaver kings quake with fear!
Men of Tor! Men of Sard!
Men of all of Cyrod!
Pledge your lives to attain liberty!
'Til our foes are uncrowned,
And the last slave unbound,
We shall fight until all men are free!
The musicians played for a bit longer after he finished singing, ending the song on a triumphant crescendo. As the music faded, the crowd began applauding, and Telepe noticed a few nodding thoughtfully in approval. He chuckled lightly to himself as he set down the lyre and inclined his head towards the band, who smiled warmly back at him. He then made his way back through the crowd, thanking those that praised his performance as he walked by, and smiling at the occasional clap on the shoulder or back he received. Finally, he made it out of the throng and took a seat next to Tari, who turned towards him as his shoulder brushed hers.
"Well played," she remarked, nudging him lightly. "When did you find the time to write that?"
"I had a moment or two to spare while we were in Sancre Tor," Telepe replied easily. "I've mentioned this before, but before my father steered me towards serving as his emissary, I considered becoming a bard. Though… I'm aware that I'm a mediocre musician at best," he added with a sheepish grin. "But I still enjoy writing songs and poems from time to time."
"Clearly," Tari smiled, her blank eyes turning towards the ground. After a moment, she looked up again and asked, "Would you like to walk with me outside the city for a bit?"
"It's growing dark," Telepe warned her.
"And you can conjure light," Tari replied simply. "Besides, beasts rarely roam this close to the city, and I'd like to escape, at least for a short while."
Telepe hesitated, then slowly pushed himself up, summoning a light with his left hand as he did. Sparicus, who had been lying at her feet, jumped up as well, his tail standing up straight as he watched his mistress attentively. Tari wrapped one arm around Telepe's waist and put her other hand on the hound as they led her away from the plaza and towards the open gates of the city.
As they exited Ceya-Tar, Telepe quietly asked Tari if she had a particular destination in mind, but she simply shook her head. "I simply could not endure the noise any longer," she explained as she leaned into Telepe's side for support. "And in truth, I was growing increasingly uncomfortable there."
"…Is it because of those men who were insulting you earlier?" Telepe asked softly.
Tari tilted her head thoughtfully, then shrugged. "Partially," she conceded. "Though that's not all of it. In truth, though Ceya-Tar is my homeland, I've never felt truly comfortable in the city. I always preferred to wander the jungle whenever I could. Part of the reason I spent so much time searching for herbs and other ingredients was because it was the only time that I truly felt free. Arcanalata trusted me enough – or, rather, was confident that I would not try to escape – that she allowed me to spend a great deal of time alone outside the city. She didn't seem to mind, so long as I was working to gather ingredients." She smiled faintly as she turned her face up towards the canopy above them. "In that regard, perhaps I was indeed spoiled compared to my fellow slaves."
"And Ceya-Tar is still your home," Telepe remarked.
"It is," Tari nodded. "In truth, I'm of two minds about it. For all the nightmares I endured, I would never wish to see it destroyed, and I was overjoyed when we finally liberated the other slaves."
"Even as you feared how they would view you when you returned?" Telepe asked. Tari paused for a moment, then nodded slowly. "And how do you feel now? Relieved? Disheartened?" he added.
Tari sighed, looking away as she considered the question. "I don't know," she admitted. "I thought I would feel a sense of peace, or perhaps a sense of triumph, knowing that my kin had been liberated. Yet, I don't. In truth, I feel almost… nothing for them." When Telepe remained silent, she sighed again, then added, "It's difficult to explain. I feel about the same as I did when we freed any other city. I'm pleased that they're free, and it's good that we've obtained another ally for the rebellion. However, I don't feel any particular connection to them. Perhaps it's due to how much long I've been away from Ceya-Tar. Perhaps it's because I was always viewed as an outsider by the other slaves, due to my apprenticeship to Arcanalata and how much time I spent outside the city. However, though they're my kin, I suppose don't truly see them as such, and so I don't feel any additional joy that the kingdom has been freed." She frowned deeply as she stopped and stared down at the ground. "Is that… troubling?"
Telepe chewed on the inside of his cheek, then replied quietly, "Well, do you feel a particular sense of attachment anywhere else?"
"…I do," Tari replied after a moment. "I feel that with the Paravant's army. I feel far more joy when our warriors claim a victory, and I'm more at ease with you, Prince Dynar, Pasare, and the others."
"Then perhaps that simply means that you don't consider Ceya-Tar your home," Telepe suggested. "And I don't believe that's troubling. Your home needn't be a particular city or people. Rather, it's among those you feel most comfortable with. If you feel most comfortable with the rebellion, then that's your home." He then smiled and added, "Which means you've been home all along."
Tari's eyes widened, and her grip around his waist tightened. "Telepe…." she began softly, turning her face up towards him.
Telepe felt his heart starting to pound, but at that moment, Sparicus let out a low growl, and then began barking furiously. He suddenly bounded down the path, and Tari almost pitched forward when her grip on his back slipped. Telepe quickly caught her, scowling at the dog, who had planted his feet about a hundred feet up the path and was barking furiously at something deeper in the jungle. Curious, Telepe whispered for Tari to remain still, then put one hand on his sword and held up his light with the other as he slowly approached the dog to see what was bothering him.
Before he reached the hound, Pelinal stepped out from around the tree, rubbing one of his wrists through his armor. He seemed mildly surprised to see Telepe approaching, and as Sparicus backed away, growling, he snapped, "Call off your beast."
"Sparicus! Come!" Tari ordered. The dog hesitated, then slunk towards her mistress. "Is that you, Whitestrake?" she added, reaching down to scratch the dog's ears. "What are you doing out here?"
"I am afraid tragedy has befallen one of our own," Pelinal replied, nodding over his shoulder.
Telepe felt a pit form in his stomach as he stepped around the tree to see what Pelinal was gazing at. As he peered through a cluster of ferns, his eyes widened, and bile rose in his throat. Lying on the ground was Plontinu, his eyes bulging and his mouth open in shock. There was a slight blue tinge to his skin, and Telepe could immediately tell that he was dead.
"Wh… what happened?!" Telepe cried, recoiling from the sight of the corpse.
Pelinal opened his mouth to answer, then paused as he caught sight of a luminescent moth fluttering past him. As he watched the insect float past, he replied, "A rather strange fate has befallen him. It would seem he was smothered by moths."
"…Moths?!" Telepe repeated incredulously.
"Indeed. I would say that the gods don't take kindly to those that blithely blaspheme," Pelinal replied as he started to walk past them. He shot Telepe a sidelong glance and added, "I shall return to the city to inform the others… and to pass along a warning that they should mind their tongues in the future, lest a similar fate befall them."
Telepe stared open-mouthed after Pelinal as the knight strode past him, his heavy boots crunching over the ferns and low bushes. He then turned back to Plontinu and leaned in a little closer, holding up his ball of light as he did. As the light washed over Plontinu's body, his blood ran cold as he noticed black, finger-shaped bruises marking Plontinu's neck.
"…Moths, he said?" Tari asked quietly as he returned.
"Moths," Telepe replied, deciding that it was wise not to pry any further. He let out a sigh as he turned back to Tari. "We should probably return as well."
"I suppose…." Tari agreed reluctantly, looking away.
Telepe hesitated, then wrapped his arm around her and gently squeezed her shoulder. "Though Pelinal shall no doubt return first," he added in a soft voice. "So there's no need to hurry back."
Tari smiled at him and leaned into his side a little more. Telepe made a mental note of where Plontinu's body was so they could retrieve it after they returned to the city and informed the others, and then he began guiding Tari back down the path to Ceya-Tar, though he kept his pace a bit slow so that they could enjoy their time alone together for just a little longer.
A/N: For anyone wondering, Telepe's song is meant to be sung to the tune of the Elder Scrolls theme.