The caverns were first and foremost suffocatingly quiet. There was a primal urge to maintain the hush. Either from evolution or wisdom the native inhabitants of the under-empires have learned to respect this while in the caverns.
Ser Vesper found himself sitting on a rough unshapely boulder hidden away in a quiet chamber. Wood was a luxury even with Refuge somewhere above his head, regardless a small crackling fire fueled by fibrous mushroom stalk flickered before him illuminating the rough walls that may have gone unobserved for perhaps centuries.If nothing else his time in the military taught him to properly forage and protect himself in the catacombs.
He had long since left the caves below the dreaming citadel, and the calming fresco of his rediscovered deity. Fearing his undoubted assassins would risk either the innocent or the mural. Both were now precious to him, more than his life. Hopefully no one but he knew his exact location, but this gambit would only be effective so long.
The firelight cast shadows on his disheveled appearance. Mud and grime clung to him, his once pristine braid had long come undone and he hadn't bothered to rebind it. He had always been at home in the dark, but with the growing bags under his eyes Vesper only looked tired.
Vesper had been consumed with the whirlwind of activity after his flight from the embassy. He was always good at prioritizing what needed to be done. He didn't have the luxury of breaking down. Others depended on him. Now though, all he had now was time and his thoughts. His yellow eyes almost appeared glazed over as he looked at the dancing motes of fire.
It wasn't fear for himself but concern for others that kept him in his sleepless state. He wished to help, He so desperately craved to be up above in refuge. Rebuilding the warrens. Helping the Desnans grieve the loss of their god with Percy, leading them to embrace The Black Butterfly and fight for vengeance. His presence would only risk their death though. It was better to act through proxy, to let others handle it for now. He would only make things worse.
Vesper had briefly returned from the catacombs only once, not for supplies but to visit with Renata and beg her aid as an information broker in finding his sister. Only then had he heard about the fiasco at the seal.
Vesper knew Drynwyn well enough to know he would not handle the whole situation well. Even if Arden yet lived the little guy’s emotional state always appeared uneasy. He could be comforting Dyrnwyn, who so desperately needed someone to be there for him.
At least hes off the streets. I can always take solace in the fact that I found him a nice house, Dyrnwyn will be safe there in Hospice. He will be happy someday. At least he isnt going through his despair in a dark corner of the Warrens, cold and alone. I’m sure he will forgive my deception. He would never have accepted it from me… nor would he have sought out to escape those slums of his own volition. He deserved so much better than the hand he was dealt than waiting in the slums for his sister to return.
She may never return, like mine. But I must try.
Tears would have likely threatened to stream down his face if he had the capacity to cry anymore today. He merely felt defeated, despite finding the only thing he had wanted for years. It was all bittersweet.
Time had little meaning here, or perhaps it had little meaning to Vesper in his state of despair.
He knew a knife was bound for his back, occasionally if he focused for a moment he could almost feel it already pressing in. Most unusually he had accepted that fact calmly. It was an eventuality. It could be prepared for. He made his peace as the anomalous and treasonous in the Empire were brutally culled. Now that he was confirmed to be a paladin of the Black Butterfly and not pledged to the Throne he surely would have been put to death regardless of his actions. Bravery can only prevail so long against the threat of multiple assassins.
It was only a matter of time. I made a valiant effort hiding who I was. What I did was foolish. I attacked the Imperial Envoy of all people. Selek,The twins, and father all deserve better than being brutally executed for my stupid rash action.
I could have fled long before it reached a tipping point, and then only I would be at risk for dereliction of duty.
His allies in Refuge will likely be spared the executions for now as the empire still yet reach for this city. Soon it may find itself nothing but an Imperial colony forcefully annexed. He knew enough of Refuge’s inhabits they would likely fight to the man to prevent this fate though. Taking the city was folly for the Azlant Empire if there will be nothing left but ashes after even if they have the military might to force the issue.
He blinked once and forced his eyes to focus. The light in the cavern had faded as he sat stewing in his thoughts. All that remained were embers who appear all but moments from plunging the chambers back to darkness.
How long ago was it? How many hours or days have passed since I fled?
He felt an unusual sense of kinship with the embers, teetering on the edge of the abyss. A spark threatening to go out in overwhelming darkness.
Vesper rolled his eyes at his pointlessly poetic thoughts,he let out a beleaguered sigh and stood. Unceremoniously he tossed another few mishapen clump of mushroom stalk onto the embers bringing the flame back from its deathbed in but a moment.
He was suddenly being observed. No one approached. But all the same someone was suddenly looking in on him. It was no longer a surprise, Vesper of old would have drawn his sword out of reflex, but in the past few years gained a sense for when he was being watched by this particular entity. Glancing about the chamber he found it. A set of three glowing yellow eyes peering out of the darkness of a set of stalagmites. Waiting. Watching.
“Why so glum there little spark. You found what you wanted. Who you wanted. Shouldn’t you be celebrating?” The soft raspy, purring voice came from nowhere he could pinpoint, it had talked while others were around and yet only vesper heard the words.
Vesper blinked and made a frustrated face as his lips formed a thin line. He no longer had the freedom to converse freely with the eyes even in hushed whispers. The nature of their deal implied no one even gods could be made aware of their existence and the nature of the deal they had.
“Don’t get it twisted Ser, it’s Getting crowded in that noggin’ of yours, don’t you think?” the feline entity murmurs. “Fortunately, I’ve been hiding from gods for a long-long time.So long as you don’t rat me out, she won’t know a thing. Remember our deal little spark, you may be getting close. I’ll be seeing you”
Vesper had learned to just accept being cryptically lectured and then left in the lurch without a word edgewise. Pressing the issue was like trying to squeeze water from a stone. As if they could hear his thoughts the yellow lights winked out and he was alone again in the chamber. At times they appeared to make musings that were helpful, others mocking, some days they only left him with more questions when it dissipated.
To the eye’s credit they were right, the black butterfly had been paying a great deal of attention to him recently, which would have any other day made him beam with pleasure but it left him somewhat disheartening at the same time as he still didn’t feel as if he deserved her support. Especially in his current sorry state.
She always ‘spoke’ to him softly, kindly. Laying claim to his compassion and courage instead of his sword, when all those prior in his life only respected his bloodline, his titles, and his swordarm in that order. All the same despite how she treated him Vesper felt as if he was bound to disappoint her, as he had everyone in his life. True to form here he is again, alone. While others die because of his actions with no way to stop it unless his sister was found.
Gone were his gilded shackles, he was free from the matriarch’s machinations. Her claws could no longer reach him here. He has never felt more free, and all the same he was hiding in a cave from assassins.
No longer was he a pawn of the empire but a free agent. Free from obligations of the empire, of his rank, of an empire he loathed.
A knight no more. In a moment of triumph he threw of the yokes and titles of the empire, and choose to fight for the people of refuge than the cruelty of the empire.
Yet here he was again, stuck pulled between two even more powerful entities than country or ethos.
A pact brokered, and an oath passionately sworn. Neither he wished to fail.
How many times will I be forced to choose between duty, and my ideals?
Will I always make the right choice?
Have I already?
