An ember persists…
“Iunderstand you will uphold your end of the bargain, Alandris Vi’Elissar, seeing as we have upheld ours.” The man robed in white, folded his hands on top of the round table, his voice echoing in the otherwise vast, empty room. “ It is unfortunate that your predecessor met an untimely demise, but I have no doubt in your ability to succeed as Grand Arch Magus in his place. You have already been impressively useful to our organization with the intelligence you’ve provided. We have high expectations for you.”
Alandris was no fool. He could recognize a threat, even when it is thinly veiled by pretty words and praises. “I have no intentions of failing, Cardinal.”
The man smiled—his crooked, stained teeth are the only thing visible below his low-hanging hood. “Very good. We do not tolerate the rise of false gods. It is the role of the Divine Council to protect the sanctity of the one true Goddess of Light, Alessiantha. We must exterminate this wicked creature as wehave all others before her whose powers have gone unchecked and threatened the protection of Lustria.”
The robed man at the Cardinal’s left tapped his fingers against the table. “It is an elusive creature. Immortal in the highest sense of the word. Lyandril—in all of his wisdom and prowess—failed to kill her, how can we expect his inferior apprentice to accomplish the task?”
Alandris bit the inside of his cheek, withholding the urge to lash out, as he had been for much of the meeting. It was like this every time.
“Vi’Elissar has powerful allies in the Elven Kingdom, and is a powerful Mage in his own rights. What has Tempestas done to further our cause?” The Cardinal snapped with an intensity that silenced the smallest of sounds in the room. “In centuries, has Tempestas secured even the most basic of information about the creature or its location? I suggest you hold your tongue, Vardin. The next time you choose to question the judgment of the Cardinal, you may lose it.”
Tieran Vardin—Lord of the largest coastal city, Tempestas. Home to scoundrels, pirates, and abundant crime. Tieran was a righteous man of the people, protecting them from the terrors that plagued their beautiful city. Of course, those same grateful innocents were blind to the fact that Tieran himself allowed those criminals to operate freely within his territory, for the price of a pocketful of gold and a stain on his soul. But a godly man he was, secretly protecting the realm as one of the six bishops of the Divine Council. So very righteous.
This time, Alandris bit down hard enough to draw blood, and the coppery tang filled his mouth and coated his teeth. The other four Bishops weren’t much different from Tieran. Leaders within their territories who turned a blind eye to the plights of their people in exchange for power. Each one sick and twisted in their own way. And now, he was one of them—their sixth He’dgained control of the Mages Consortium and Nil’Faerith, but how much of himself had he lost to do so?
In response to the Cardinal’s scolding words, Tieran bowed his head low, saying nothing, but Alandris noticed the way he clenched his teeth, curling his hand into a fist atop the table. He wondered how harrowing it must be for a man with that much ego to take command from another. Still, the silence persisted.
No one stood against the Cardinal.No one.
The Cardinal was the only truly faceless member of the Divine Council. Alandris had made every attempt to uncover his identity, but no one within the holy order—not even the Bishops—had any information on him. His anonymity made him dangerous. He could be anywhere at any time, and Alandris would be none the wiser. He would need to be careful in how he handled the Mages Consortium.
“You all have your orders,” the Cardinal said, rising from his chair. “You may go.”
Alandris forced himself to walk slowly from the room—as much as he wished to run—to free himself from the burning sensation in his lungs, and the innate desire to let that fire flow freely from his hands. The meeting room was suffocating. White walls, chairs, table—everything pure white and yet horribly filthy. He’d endured the weekly meetings for the past twenty-five years, even before he’d betrayed Lyandril and gotten him killed. Still, each time he left with another drop of fiery rage, ready to spill over until he burned up entirely.
The sudden thought of Lyandril only made the turbulence of his emotions worse. When he’d returned to the Mages Consortium after… everything, he’d let his mentor groom him to be the Council’s perfect dog. It’d been a genuine test of will to play along with the ruse, knowing what Lyandril had caused…. It was torturous to refrain from killing him for what he’d done. But Alandris knew he’d need patience to achieve his goals.
So, he persevered, and eventually, his patience paid off. The bits of false evidence he’d spent years and years planting, which pointed to Lyandril’s betrayal of the Divine council culminated in a trial leading to his death. Alandris had been there waiting with open arms to take on his mantle. Another step in the right direction, but it didn’t make Lyandril’s death feel any less bittersweet.
He had looked up to him.Once.
The portal back to Nil’Faerith was the only thing that cleared Alandris’s head. The sensation of the magic, like tiny pinpricks all across his body, was a comforting sort of pain. Most hated it, and the frequent headaches it caused, but he enjoyed the feeling—anything to dull his senses after surrounding himself with the realm’s supposed protectors.
Zorinna was waiting for him in his study upon his return to the Consortium. He’d hoped for a moment of peace today, but there was always, always someone waiting for him following his meetings. Every time he was forced to speak aloud that he was no closer to finding her, that he’d learned nothing, it drove the knife farther into his chest. He’d be met with a pitying look, or words of encouragement he’d heard a hundred times, which only intensified the pain..
“Anything?” She asked hesitantly.
He hated the way those around him had begun to tiptoe around him, like he was a volatile thing they feared they’d push too far. One wrong word and he’d break. No. No, he was already broken. They’d watched him shatter twenty-five years prior. It’d taken years for him to regain some semblance of himself, but he would never be whole.
“Nothing,” he muttered.
“Well, it’s fine, we can always—”
“Not today, Zorinna.”
A loud knock sounded at the door before he could tell her to leave.
Kaz entered, winded and sweating, carrying a stack of papers in his arms. “I’ve just returned from a small settlement north of Val’Naeris. Look at this.”
“Did you run here?” Zorinna laughed, taking the paper from his hand.
“It’s an island, Rin, but I ran from the boat, yes. This warranted it.”
Her smile fell to something more serious, and Alandris peeked over her shoulder at the words. As much as he didn’t want to deal with this today, he would never dismiss a potential lead.
The vessel’s only defining feature was a black flag emblazoned with a red and gold phoenix. Most of the crew were indiscernible, but we suspect the captain was an Elven male with long red hair. Frequently spotted with him was another Elven male of black hair, a half-Orc woman with various tattoos, and a pale, Human woman of white hair. We have reason to believe the stolen goods are being transported to Tempestas, and will attempt to intercept the vessel prior to their arrival.
