AN: No TW this week.
Also, it is good to be back! [Sappier notes at the end]

It would be categorically correct to say I was flying blind in Aroughs. I'd entered the city with the intent of meeting this lordling and discerning his intentions toward Antebellum. Then, within a single day, I discovered that he was an anti-charismatic, incompetent fluff. And, as a bonus, he'd orchestrated a murder plot at his own gala! And yet, despite all the dangers and dilemmas, I found myself buzzing with anticipation. A trip I'd written off as wasted was shaping up to be the most noteworthy event of the season (for all the wrong reasons).

I woke at the first greying of the eastern sky. Galbatorix's old regiments had done their job well; even after my decade apart I still had the militant internal clock of a monk. It didn't matter how long I'd rested; I would always blink myself awake a candle-and-a-half before dawn. In this particular case, it was definitely an irritant rather than a benefit; I couldn't have slept more than an hour or two.

At least you get to sleep. Katana's voice floated through my head with an exaggerated pout.

I sighed and rubbed my face, rolling to my feet. You spend most of your time in dreams. Is it not much the same?

My dreams are no more restful than your own. I felt a tender caress at the end of the thought, like she wanted to fully embrace me but was afraid of being pushed away. As painful as her reluctance was for me, it was a fair assessment. I had done just that for many years in our past. She noticed my musings about her hesitancy and responded with a more substantial nudge. Which ghosts follow you tonight?

I sighed aloud. The incident last night worries me. I've felt fear, even to a paralyzing extent, but it's never been so fast and strong before. I'd learned through painful experience that mastery of one's self was the last line of defense a person could possess. If I lost even that…

I've never seen you lose control. Katana struck the core of the issue with unerring insight.

I shivered as I tugged a woolen tunic over my head. That isn't entirely true. I kept the memories themselves tucked firmly away; buried to a part of me that even I dared not touch. I could recall the list of events clinically, but grasping at the images themselves felt like capturing frost. Still, I knew she would understand my reference. Galbatorix's preferred way to teach interrogation "resistance" was to perform interrogations. This process inevitably produced failure after failure until one could resist to his satisfaction. Then, just once, he would break you down completely. But it has been a very long time.

Hm. Katana weakened her connection to a trickle of awareness behind an iron-tight wall.

I tugged on a pair of light leather boots. These were soft, of poor quality, really little more than hide sleeves with laces on the side. I chewed my lip and thought privately, are her memories as weak as mine? Has she carried the burden of that experience all this time without so much as telling me? How much has my negligence forced her to bear in silence… I banished the thought as soon as she strengthened our link again. In any case, it's a weakness we cannot afford. I'll do some research once we're back in Uru'baen.

She acknowledged my brief flare of shame without reproach. Until then, let it lie. A veteran who stumbles when struck is no weaker than a green recruit who has yet to fall.

I felt my shoulders droop as the tension dripped away. You're too generous to me, fricai.

Someone must put kindness back into our world. Why shouldn't it be I?

I grinned to myself as I bundled into a sweater. Katana, Tender of Heart? Quite a shift from "Whisperdeath" and "Shadowclaw."

I'm no longer a hunter. A mirage of warm colors— reds, tangerines, and fuzzy pinks— floated through my mind. And besides, I've had o'er long to dwell on such things.

These next few days, we will both be hunting the most delicate prey of all.

Rabits?

I meant, "secrets!" I see that the lack of a body hasn't curbed your gluttony! I hesitated, briefly afraid that I'd dared too far. These things were still fresh wounds by the measure of our lifespans.

She considered my words for a moment of tense silence. Speaking of, you should request fish to be served for your next meal.

I'm not overly fond of fish.

I don't care! I died for you; you can eat fish for me.

I had to choke down a chuckle to avoid waking my roommate. It was too early for even the most diligent servants to be awake and Harold was snoozing on a cot in the corner of my borrowed room (a privilege of the highest order). Nen ono threyja, thäet weohnata waíse .

Drama queen. Where are you off to at this hour anyway?

I need to bathe and I'm not in the mood to wait for the household staff to wake and prepare a bath.

Take me with you?

Of course.

-:- -:- -:-

I meandered out of the palace, dodging the few guards on their way to relieve the night watchmen of their posts. The grounds had finally quieted from the previous night's entertainment, though I still heard distant peals of sloppy laughter from the revelers who hadn't quite exhausted their highs. I reached a well near the kitchen's entrance without incident, for which I was grateful. I tossed a copper coin into the well. It twinkled for half a moment before it entered the water with a soft plunk. I twirled a finger in a lazy circle and whispered, "Adurna." A small globe of water flicked to the tip of my finger. I popped it into my mouth like a bite of spun sugar and hummed in satisfaction. Though it was groundwater, it was of a much higher quality than any found near Uru'baen. It's surprisingly clear for well water. I expected to taste traces of mineral deposits, but this is as pure as a mountain spring!

Could it be moving beneath the ground?

Curious, I whispered, " Garjzla ," and pictured my copper coin glowing an eerie green. I fed more energy into the light until I could see it from the top of the well. To my surprise, the well was only ten feet deep or so. At the bottom, two rough pathways surged off into impenetrable darkness. Tunnels?

Why would someone make tunnels that connect to a well?

Rather, I think someone dug a well and broke into a flooded tunnel. This hypothesis raised more questions than it could possibly answer. How extensive do you think they are? Is yet another of the Empire's cities perched atop a honeycomb of subterranean tunnels?

No need to rush to conclusions. And besides, this has nothing to do with the main purpose for us being here.

You're right. Still, we'd better keep this in mind. I severed the illuminating spell and regathered my strength. Another utterance of, " Adurna ," and a glob of water flowed upward. It bulged and slopped into an amorphous mass, several large bucket's-worth hovering a foot off the ground. The dip in my strength was sudden and savage. I always underestimate how heavy water is!

You've become even more reliant on magic since your return. Katana's rebuke seemed more aggressive than the matter warranted.

It's the one tool I can carry everywhere I go. I tethered the spell to a tourmaline point in my pocket. Normally, the slate-like mineral was dirt-poor at storing energy, but this one was striated with quartz inclusions and minuscule flecks of garnet. The brownish/black color and unattractive cut made it unassuming and cheap; two important qualities for a traveling mage (who wasn't keen on being robbed). For all its utility, it was by no means my most powerful store of energy. Unbidden, I was overcome by a memory of large, warm, bronzed, battle-worn hands brushing my skin as they fastened a heart-shaped crystal pendant around my throat. I blinked hard, bile and bitter memories fighting to clog my throat first.

Do you regret losing that particular jewel? All the challenge melted from Katana's thoughts. If anything, she seemed eager to distract me and genuinely curious.

I wish I'd thought to put the energy somewhere else before I gave it to Torix for safekeeping. It was easier to explain this truth than the more weighty one lingering just beneath it. The fact of the matter was that Galbatorix's gifts always came with strings. The more powerful the gift, the tighter the bindings. Ostensibly, my necklace had been a grand show of love and devotion; a gem he'd fashioned painstakingly to be the most perfect thing of its kind. Between his enchantments and my patient storing of energy from the eldunari in my care, it was undoubtedly the most valuable item I'd ever possessed. However, it had been given as a token of a bond that lay shattered at my feet. After my disastrous return, I hadn't dared make mention of the heart pendant. It's bad enough to be treated like a dog; I've no need of a literal collar. Let him give it to Verra, if she's fool enough to take it. Gods know she needs all the help she can get.

Would you accept the necklace if he tried to return it?

I let my silence answer her, unflinching in the uncertainty. My pragmatism and my pride were directly opposed on the issue, and such a conflict wasn't likely to be resolved in a single conversation. Katana existed alongside my quiet without judgment.

-:- -:- -:-

By the time I'd ferried my prize back to my room, Harold was awake and busy preparing my gown for fast-breaking and the afternoon's festivities. The spring green gown was feather light, a consideration for both the building heat and my preferences. He nodded in greeting, eyeing my globule warily. "Please be mindful of the dress, my lady. Silk can be especially unforgiving of moisture."

I waved a hand. "A lecture? From a whippersnapper like you?"

Harold rolled up his sleeves, brows lifted indignantly. "I'm here to keep you presentable. What use am I if I don't defend your wardrobe—"

"From me ," I winked. "Believe me, there are worse things to get on a gown. And, on that subject, join me in the grooming room." I walked through a narrow, gaudy cabinet door into a truly extravagant space. The center of the room held a tiled octagonal tub, striped in white and blue bands. The floor continued the pattern, a swath of blue in the center fading to white and then to green as it journeyed up the walls. Enameled ceramic picked out flora and fauna in the nature scene, but none with enough detail to be sure of their inspiration. A gilded mirror hung in the center of the opposite wall. By style alone, I could tell it was far older than the rest of the room. As my globe emptied itself into the tub, I ran a finger along the frame.

"I finally had a breakthrough yesterday!" Harold followed behind me, arms laden with mysterious glass bottles and peculiar tools. "I've definitely been thinking about curls all wrong."

I hummed and dipped a finger into the icy water. " Vaetha ." The stone tub sapped a bit of extra warmth from my spell, but soon both basin and bath were as near to boiling as I could stand. (This was a hangover from my brief stay in Tronjheim. For all the trauma the city had given me, I sorely missed the natural bathing springs.) I disrobed and handed my articles off to Harold, sinking into the warmth gratefully. "I put myself in your capable hands, as always. And, if possible, make it serviceable for both the morning and evening. I won't have time for you to restructure it between events."

"A busy itinerary?"

"I need to make a friend," I closed my eyes and leaned my head back as Harold dripped scented oils into my hair. "Do any members of Lord Bramblebay's household have curly hair?"

Harold paused mid-rinse. "I believe his wife and eldest daughter do."

"Then you must make an inquiry of their accompanying servants. Make it clear that it is a matter of some sensitivity; that ought to intrigue them enough to be cooperative." I flicked my eyes open, content to see the understanding glint in Harold's eyes.

He merely smiled and bowed his head.

-:- -:- -:-

Breakfast proved a less tedious affair than dinner the night before. Our host had overindulged (in liquor, food, or gods only knew what other vice), and was still nursing the consequences well into the morning. His mother seemed unphased by this breach in propriety, which only lessened my opinion of the man. He's soft, even for a noble. I've seen Morzan lead martial drills while he was so hungover that he couldn't open his eyes!

Katana's retort was quick and blistering, And you've joined said exercises in a very similar condition!

I winced. It was expected of me. Torix isn't the type of Ebrithil to accept excuses. What I did not say (though we both heard as clearly as if the man was perched on my shoulder) was, "Finish what you start."

Apparently, the youngling Halstead has no such expectations.

He is either incapable, unreliable, or ill-mannered beyond reason.

Something tells me it isn't a matter of "or".

I scanned the long table keenly. Piles of fine pastries sat alongside silver bowls of fruit, with trays of spiced pork and cloud-like eggs between them. Pitchers of water, cream, and a sour drink favored along the southern shore were scattered every few seats. Finally, my eyes rested on a platter of small fish, crisped dark brown and sprinkled with herbs. Will that suffice?

It will do quite nicely, thank you.

I caught the attention of a willowy woman sitting beside the tray. She was roughly the same generation as our hostess but bore the weight of her years more gracefully. Her white hair was fastened back in a neat bun, though wispy curls floated around her round, rouged face. After she passed the dish along I said, "I don't believe I had the chance to make your acquaintance yesterday?"

A shy smile overtook her lined features. "No, Highness. I am Serae, daughter of Khara and wife to Lord Hirde Bramblebay. It is an honor to speak with you."

I concealed the thrum of satisfaction behind a pleasant expression. A shot in the dark finds its mark. "I regret to say that neither name is familiar to me. Are you vassal lords to Aroughs, or have you journeyed here for the festivities as I have?" While technically not an improper question, it could easily be construed as rude by more prickly nobles (being unknown to court players of note was the fastest way for a family to fade into obscurity).

Serae took the query in stride, but the older, portly man on her left (presumably the aforementioned Lord Bramblebay) did not. He interjected, "Just so, Your Highness. Our estate is an easy day's ride from the western gate. Our land produces some of the sweetest wine south of the elven border."

I quirked a smile. "Then I must confess my interest in your business, my lord. Faelnirv is a dwindling luxury in civilized lands, and I have a passing fascination with the art of winemaking." Both of these things were true enough. Morzan greedily guarded the last three bottles of elf liquor left in the Empire deep within his personal estate. (By his own declaration: one was for a birth, one was for a marriage, and one was for a funeral.) Plus, it never hurt to remind the more uppity nobles of my actual age and experience.

And you're a lush. Katana teased primly.

Hush!

Lord Bramblebay sat up as straight as his arthritic spine would allow, all alight with interest. "Should you ever have the time to pay us a visit, we would be honored to show you anything you might desire. At the very least, may I be so bold as to extend a cask of our finest vintage as a gift?"

"Indeed, that is a rather attractive offer. Perhaps I will take you up on it before I return to Uru'baen; I so rarely make my way south, and it seems a shame to waste the opportunity." For any other noble to invite themselves to a residing lord's estate in the middle of another lord's hosting would be scandalous indeed. That was perhaps the only privilege that royals alone enjoyed; lesser nobles respected our time enough to be grateful for any scrap of it.

Serae answered me with a bow of her head. "Our home is yours, Highness." I just barely caught the shift of her arm that told me she'd placed her palm on her husband's leg before she spoke. "Though I regret to say we will be remaining within the city proper for the foreseeable future." She swallowed, and continued in a gentle tone, "Lord and Lady Halstead are very dear to us. We will be attending them until His Lordship's health is restored."

I shifted my gaze to the woman across from me. Her ever-present weariness dragged her face down into a pitiful expression of grief. "I apologize for disrupting your plans. I would gladly spare them if I thought I could. But, as it is, Serae has been a balm to me through these difficult weeks and I am loath to relinquish her."

"I would not dream of depriving you of any comforts you may find." I kept my voice low and gentle. "I am pleased that such a devoted household exists to support you through this trying time." I diverted my focus back to the pair of nobles. "Will you still be attending the demonstrations this afternoon?"

Serae flicked her eyes to Lady Halstead. At our hostess's nod, she said, "We will."

"Then I will have ample time to speak more with you there. Is that an agreeable compromise?"

"More than agreeable, Your Highness," Lord Bramblebay reasserted himself in the conversation. His wife blinked slowly in response; like a dragoness pondering whether or not to snap up a horse that had dared into her path. "I tend to fixate on the spectacles themselves during such events, but I would love to play a round of cards with you later in the evening."

"It is settled then." I turned back to my plate, signaling the end of my interest in the conversation. Another group of guests struck up banter about a scandal in Kuasta— something about a robbery— as I plucked a strip of pale-white flesh from one of my fish.

Katana's thoughts connected more completely with my own until our senses overlapped. Unlike our previous experiences in years past, where we could trade and double our perceptions; only cold isolation reflected from her mind. I felt like a membrane of liquid glass that was being stretched to bursting as Katana desperately tried to embrace the physical world. Chew slowly, her mournful mental voice said, and be careful of the needle-bones!

Wiol ono, fricai.

Duels and dueling culture as a whole are completely different from regular combat training. The overlap between the two areas of expertise is— to the surprise of many lay people—notably narrow.

I believe the difference is best explained with this example:

Morzan was one of the most feared swordsmen in the past millennia. Exactly two people were ever able to best him in combat; one of them was Torix, and the other was the man who eventually took his life. Despite his incredible skill, strength, instinct, etc… he had no interest whatsoever in formal dueling. He loved a playful sparring match, "one killer to another." (He and Gildor spent many hours that way, in the old days). Conversely, duelists were less like soldiers and more like athletes and performers. They fought in carefully monitored matches with dull swords, striving to accumulate points against their opponents. They're ilk also tended to have heightened awareness of their presentation; it was all about fair, honorable, entertainment. Those who successfully marketed their personas and skills lived comfortable lives, often employed by lords to represent their colors in tournaments.

Why do I detail all of this now?

Because I will not spare a single thread of thought to do so in context. As someone who's actually been through the brutal reality of fighting to the death, I find the act of playing at murder too macabre for even my tenacious sensibilities.

Luckily, our host had a whole parade of amusements scheduled for the afternoon: acrobats, minstrels, horse riders, and a half dozen more; each more ridiculous than the last. Unluckily, they took place in crowded wooden stalls under a blazing sun. But, at least the hours of mindless festivities gave me plenty of time to pick apart my newest "friend".

After all, I only had a day and a half to unearth her secrets before her assassination.

I fanned my face as elegantly as I could be bothered. In the past hours, many of my fellow ladies had given up their presentability for gale-force bats of their dainty hand fans. At least the thin purple awning erected over the top of the stands provided some relief from the unseasonably brutal sunlight. Or perhaps not so unseasonal. If this is spring, how miserable must their summers be?

You could use magic to relieve the discomfort.

I felt a hint of challenge in Katana's suggestion. Even I'm not that reliant on gramyre. And besides, that would be just as exhausting as bearing the heat directly.; there's no benefit.

Just making sure I hadn't accidentally switched riders.

I closed my eyes to keep from rolling them. One of the most trying things about being a rider and constantly immersed in politics was having an inner dialogue always infinitely more stimulating than any outer one. Several of the younger ladies had been engaged in a hearty discussion of lace patterns for nearly half an hour, and my patience was waning.

I glanced at Serae Bramblebay and found a similarly glazed disinterest staring back at me from her dark eyes. I leaned in and breathed, "Personally, I've never been able to pick out the difference from one type of lace to another. Once there's enough thread all knotted together, it just seems like tangled spiderwebs to me."

Serae flicked her fan up to her lips to hide her smile. "I actually used to have quite a deft hand in weaving bobbin lace, but I lost my taste for the work long before my hands lost their deftness."

I paused as a cheer erupted from the stands. In the grassy field before us, a pair of pure-white mares bedecked in gold-painted tack and bells ran in a circle. A trio of acrobats balanced precariously on their backs— one with a single foot on each of the horses' rumps and a partner standing on both of his shoulders. I applauded politely before returning to my conversation. "You must have been dedicated. It's a time-consuming craft."

"It was one of the only tasks at which I was skilled enough to be trusted." She folded her fan, laying both it and her bony fingers in her lap. "Lady Halstead would join me on winter evenings. But," she paused and a wistful note entered her voice, "that was long ago."

"You've been acquainted with the lady for some time then?" Another wave of raucous cheering accompanied the trio and mares as they took their bows and returned to the performer's tent. Soon after, a pair of duelists in flamboyant livery strode to the center of the field, bowed deeply to one another, and engaged in a few testing strokes. Still, my question had no answer.

I'd almost switched to a new line of conversation when a rigid, forced calm settled into Sarae's shoulders. "I was one of her attendants before my marriage."

"That goes a long way in explaining the closeness between the two of you; my personal attendant is as dear to me as my own family." And then some, I added privately.

My comment eased some of the defensive tension in her shoulders. "And so it is with the lady and I." She smiled warmly, "I'm glad that someone else understands this often overlooked truth." Any chance of further conversation came to an end as the duel commenced in earnest. All of the ladies, including Serae, were utterly entranced by the flamboyant— and dangerously inefficient— swordplay.

I slid this new tidbit into the portrait of the woman I was forming in my mind. Considerable charisma and grace, lack of house title, and past as a glorified servant? No doubt about it, she married far above her station.

Katana chimed in, Should she be commended or criticized?

It makes little difference. That exact opportunity was one of the most quoted reasons that positions in high-ranking noble entourages were so competitively sought. Even the lowliest maid could become a ruling noble if she caught the right eye; though she would never be wholly accepted by her "peers." Clearly, it's worked in her favor.

Aside from the son of her former employer wanting her dead.

I smiled privately behind my upraised fan. I would bet Shruikan's weight in gold that the two are connected.

What of the husband?

I can't rule him out yet. But, from my preliminary investigations, he is no more remarkable than any of the other roosters strutting about this coop. No, this matter has its origins between our hostess and our new companion here.

Then the next logical question is: Why does the soon-to-be Lord of Aroughs care what his mother's-former-servant may know?

The back of my neck prickled as a series of likely assumptions jumped to mind. Among them, the most promising was the simplest; Katana, you're a genius.

You're the last to realize it. But, why?

I will be able to give you a more satisfactory answer tonight.

An evening of tedious gambling substantiated my impression of both Lord Halstead (a mediocre waste of a noble title) and Lord Bramblebay alike. Either he was the most brilliant actor I'd ever met in my life, or he was ordinary in every possible way. The only additional context I gained was a confirmation of my suspicion about how he and his wife met one another. He'd come to a court function, saw her trailing behind Lady Halstead, and fallen for her at once. I was impressed by his description of their courtship; he seemed truly devoted to her and had paid her every possible courtesy. They'd been married only a few years less than Galbatorix had been on the throne— no small feat in our turbulent world.

It was a shame that it was doomed to end in tragedy.

And as to the origin of the fledgling lord's anxieties… What could possibly trouble a man awaiting his inheritance but a question of his legitimacy?

Sappy AN:

Kvetha! I am finally back from the dead! This year has been wiiild for me. My partner and I hit our ten-year dating anniversary, I got another surgery, I planned and executed a wedding, and then finally actually married said partner at said wedding! (We're nearing our four-month-aversary! We've been joking since then about how lame it is to start the counter over after being together so long). So wifey is now *actually* my wife and I'm over the moon!

Then we got covid and life got busy as heck, so my "few week" hiatus turned into a few months and... well, here I am.

A few events piled up to finally coax me back to my keyboard: I was eliminated from a writing competition I took part in, I met another OC crafter on discord (I'll update this note if they ever get around to posting their story), and (of course) MURTAGH FINALLY DROPPED!

I binged it in three days (like it was 2012 and I was nested in a corner of the playground). Just in time to actually meet the man himself! TwT Childhood dream: accomplished. Coincidentally, one of the things wifey and I asked to have signed was our wedding guest book. This was such a magical experience and I'm honored beyond words to 1) have been able to do it, 2) have a partner so supportive to accompany my socially-anxious butt, and 3) To be in the presence of the person whose work inspired me more than any other to CREATE; recklessly, indulgently, and with passion!

Special apologies and gratitude to GrimnirGraubart on AO3, whose incredible, insightful, and detailed comments have completely revitalized my confidence, energy, and joy for this project.

And, of course, love always for my incredible editor/GOAT bridesmaid Ms. Arrow (she's busy this week, so if it seems rougher than usual it's all my own fault lol).

TL;DR: Sorry I was gone, glad to be back, still love this series.

For long-time IC fans and newbies, Atra esterni ono thelduin, fricaya. And thanks for reading ;)

TRANSLATION NOTES FOR NERDS LIKE ME:

Nen ono threyja, thäet weohnata waíse. - As you desire, it will be.
Adurna - water
Garjzla - Light
Wiol ono, fricai. - For you, friend.
Personally, I wish we had a less formal/powerful word for "want"... it makes it hard to converse casually in the AL.