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[h3]The Duchy of Zerul, by a road in southwest[/h3]
The situation still felt unreal to Jaelnec somehow, perhaps even more so now that he was not only the leader again, but they were also just calmly and safely gathering firewood for some warmth and a meal before heading off to their destination. These last couple of days in particular had been some of the toughest to deal with in his life, even when compared to the trials he had been put through by his relentless master. It was still not worse than losing his parents and hometown to the crusaders, of course – an occurrence that had left him broken and empty – , but accumulatively the events of these past few days probably came in second to that. Yet oddly, he found, he did not feel hopeless or sad; frightened, yes, but not to the point of surrender. He could tell that he still had strength in reserve and that he remained capable of facing whatever he needed to face to protect his friends, and in spite of the adversity they had met on their road thus far, he still felt naively hopeful about their chances to end the Withering.
Not only that, but reaching Zerul City would not only potentially clue them in on where to continue their quest, but also allow Jaelnec to find and meet Thaler’s grandfather, who could very well be the last living Knight of the Will now that Freagon was gone. It was possible that the squire could become a full-fledged knight, which though practically was just a formal title would still be a formidable source of motivation for him. Together with Thaler he would revive the knighthood, using the obliteration of the Withering as the catalyst to regain its legendary status.
And then, on top of it all, Roct...

His left hand found the hilt of the sword, grasping it lightly while he gathered suitable-looking pieces of wood with his left and sticking them in his left armpit for transportation. [I]Roct, are you here?[/I]
“[I]I am always here, Jaelnec. I thought we had established by now that I literally cannot exist outside the sword, and have no choice but to respond when you reach out to me?[/I]” came her prompt reply, her tone sounding more genuinely curious than biting. She was silent for a moment – a sensation made different from her simply not communicating by him still feeling vaguely aware of her presence, making her hesitation almost palpable to him – before speaking again. “[I]You intentionally avoided touching the sword for a while there. You were talking about me, were you not?[/I]” She sounded nervous.
[I]Some of the time,[/I] he told her truthfully. [I]Aemoten says that you absolutely can’t possess me again and that doing so is dangerous.[/I] He recounted what the Sekalyn had told him to her as best as he could.
“[I]Oh.[/I]” She gave off a sense of quiet wonder. “[I]I had no idea. I... I just felt as though I needed to do something. You were reaching for me so desperately back then... I didn’t know. I guess even now I still don’t understand your kind...[/I]”
Jaelnec arched an eyebrow. [I]My kind? Nightwalkers?[/I]
“[I]Well, yes, but humanoids in general as well, and animals for that matter. I wasn’t like your kind to begin with, and being stuck like this hasn’t exactly allowed me to develop much past what I’ve learned from my wielders. I guess that since all of my wielders have been nightwalkers, your kind is the one I understand the best.[/I]”
[I]What do you mean, you weren’t like my kind to begin with?[/I]
Roct gave off a sense of dull regret. “[I]I told you that I don’t know what I technically am, but I suppose what I originally was is relevant, isn’t it? I wasn’t always a sword, after all. Before Telagon forged this sword I was kept in a crystal prison, and before then... though I guess I wasn’t fully conscious or alive back then, since my body died before it was fully ready to be hatched, I was a dragon.[/I]”
“A dragon?!” Jaelnec exclaimed out loud, so startled that he forgot that he did not need to speak out loud for Roct to hear him.
“[I]An infant White, yes. I died, as I said, but my father captured my soul before it could move on to the next plane, because he wanted me to have a chance to experience this world before moving on to the next. Sometimes... sometimes I think I would have preferred not to know this world. My time with Telagon was nice – he was a kind person and a good friend – but my time in Freagon’s hands...[/I]”
[I]Freagon?[/I]
“[I]I could tell you much about your master, Jaelnec, though perhaps not as much as you think. Freagon did not see me as an ally the way his father did and learned to shut me out completely very quickly after obtaining the sword. I will say that Freagon was nothing like his father; his heart was so cold that I would say he came dangerously close to fully embracing evil. Did, actually, a few times...[/I]”
Well, that was several of the questions he had for the entity answered all in one go. It did raise another one, though: [I]How were you an ally to Telagon? Did you possess him like you did with me?[/I]
“[I]No, I’d never forcefully possessed anyone until... you know. Usha. But being a dragon I have perfect memory, and even without taking over my wielder’s body I can still migrate part of my soul into them if they permit it. I found that I could lend Telagon certain abilities that came with my current state of existence, such as my sight. You’ve experienced it sporadically, too, when your anxiety was the greatest. Let me show you...[/I]”
Before Jaelnec could accept or deny Roct’s offer he suddenly found himself gazing upon a world that was different than the one he had seen but an instant prior, through black eyes that abruptly sported white slitted pupils. As he remembered having seen in flashes a number of times before the world became one of strange alien colors as the physical realm vanished to give way to a world of magical energy, the coursing soul and beating heart of Reniam laid bare before Roct’s ethereal vision.
Looking down at himself, even Jaelnec’s own body had turned into a contour of gray mist, whereas Roct – the sword [I]and[/I] the creature – stood out as a bright, almost solid-looking outline of the sword in an almost blindingly pure white color.
He blinked, and the world returned to normal. He was speechless.
“[I]I’ve also learned something similar to what some refer to as the Art of the Warden and can enhance physical attributes of my wielder if need be. I did this much in Telagon’s hands, to the point where I was often exhausted to the point of forced dormancy, but it has been a very long time since I’ve needed to use my energy for anything. I’m quite powerful right now, but I won’t be so for long if you decide to rely on me too much. Ask for it, and I can lend you whatever measure of strength you need.[/I]”
[I]That sounds –[/I]
“[I]No, it doesn’t. I gather energy very slowly, Jaelnec, and if you deplete the energy I have now... well, my power will not be too impressive in your lifetime. If you got your hands on that sword you used me to block earlier, however, that’s another story. I’ve never sensed such a bountiful source of magical energy before, it felt like I could keep drinking from it forever without ever exhausting it.[/I]”
[I]That’s Angora’s sword,[/I] he told her with a frown. [I]She’s an ally now; I can’t ask her to give me her weapon for something like that. Besides, I’m not sure I [/I]want[I] you to be any stronger than you are now. You already possessed me and rendered me unconscious; what guarantee do I have you won’t do that again?[/I]
“[I]Oh, I can’t do that. Well, I suppose I could if your consciousness was already trying to withdraw, but I won’t since you told me not to.[/I]”
[I]You could me lying.[/I]
“[I]I could,[/I]” she admitted freely, “[I]but even then I could only ever inhabit you temporarily, and betraying your trust would most likely mean that I was discarded somewhere that I’d be unlikely to ever be found again. Since that is a fate I would do anything to avoid, it would be irrational for me to do so. Even if you don’t trust my morals, surely you can trust my common sense.[/I]”
Jaelnec sighed, still feeling uncertain about this uninvited passenger that had apparently come along on his quest but not having anything left to test her trustworthiness either.
[I]It’s time to go back,[/I] he told her, hefting the firewood he had gathered during the conversation. [I]We’ll talk more later. In the meantime I think you had better keep a very low profile, or I might decide that you’re too dangerous to keep around.[/I]
“[I]I know. Eventually there is a lot that I feel you should know, but for now simply know this: the one who wielded the crystal prison I inhabited before this sword was Felgon Dragonslayer, who was Telagon’s father and Freagon’s grandfather. There is a [/I]lot[I] that Freagon never told you. Also –[/I]”
Jaelnec let go of the sword and headed back to the camp then, intent not to let the entity tempt him into an even longer conversation than they had already had... though by the time he had found his way back to the others, it had occurred to him what Roct had said could not possibly be true. Felgon Dragonslayer, after all, died almost a thousand years ago.
It had to be a lie... did it not? Otherwise either Telagon or Freagon had to have lived for centuries longer than they should naturally have been able to.

When Jaelnec came back – soon followed by Olan, each of them carrying their own stack of dry branches – it was to Iridiel apparently recounting the tale of how she had come to leave her homeland. They listened in silence, neither of them wanting to interrupt her and both interested in her story, and remained silent right until Iridiel appeared to fall asleep.
“I guess adventurers never come with happy pasts,” Jaelnec sighed, wondering to himself whether that was really true. He looked at Angora, still wanting to be angry with her for the pain she had inflicted upon himself and Thaler but finding himself incapable of harboring any ill will against her after having seen her comfort Iridiel like that.
Inelegant though the transition might seem, he figured, he had to ask her: “How did you end up possessed by the... thing? The one that controlled you?”

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[h3]Duchy of Pelgaid, secluded pond[/h3]
“Pelgaid City is there to act as a prison for the Black Tribunal, yes,” Gerald confirmed Jillian’s suspicion, “but the Land of Eternal Night is mainly sealed with walls and guardsmen, and once magi become powerful enough, physical obstacles like that aren’t enough to stop them.” He nodded vaguely in Crone’s direction, silently reminding the witch of how that ancient sorceress had materialized here just a bit earlier this evening.
“Liches don’t have a maximum capacity like we do, but continue to accumulate more and more magical energy the longer they live, and the original Black Tribunal has been in there for eight hundred years or so... I imagine that they must be incredibly powerful by now. Though I don’t know what countermeasure is in place to prevent Delian and the other truly ancient liches from leaving – and there must be one or we’d have had a repeat of the War of Bones – I don’t think it’s able to stop [I]everyone[/I] from leaving. The low-level necromancers, at least, seem to be able to leave just fine. That was who taught me, by the way; low-level necromancers.”
He chuckled. “If the Tribunal [I]could[/I] leave... I’d imagine Rodoria would be a very different place. I don’t think any of the duchies would be able to stop them.”

When Jillian questioned the circumstances under which he had learned necromancy further, though, Gerald could only shrug. “Some time after my wife died I decided for myself to research necromancy in an effort to talk to her again, at least, and potentially do even more. I can only presume that they learned of my efforts somehow despite how hard I worked to keep them secret, because they showed up shortly after I had started fumbling in the dark. Just a couple of regular-looking people in black robes, offering me to join the Black Tribunal and learn necromancy from them.” He smirked. “This was before I was exiled, mind you; my stepfather was the dean of the academy, and I, a former instructor there, was in a prime position to succeed him. Surely a former revolutionary can see the allure in potentially putting a practitioner of the forbidden arts in place as the head of the primary institution teaching new generations of mages?”
He sighed. “Truth be told, though, I don’t know with certainty why they came to me, nor what their plans for me are now. It may be that they simply do not have the presence outside of the Land of Eternal Night to spend their resources on petty revenge against me. But whatever the case may be, all I can do at this point is wait and see what they do.”