Gillian grumbled from his seat on the wagon. There was little reason for him to have followed the captain on this trip, and even worse he'd have to PAY Klein for the use of his transport.And some bizzare rabbit person trotted along side them, evidentally in awe of their surroundings. He damned his stars, the last week had not been a joyous one. He leans back against the ragged tarp covering, recounting his meet up with Nero.
The young man had laid himself down for a days long nap several hours ago. The various interruptions of the previous night still wearing him down. Heavy blankets covered him as dusk fell, though he made no motion to awake. Beds were a rare resourced, and Mayon be damned if he'd not take advantage. His slumber continued until well into the evening, well beyond point the various servants had finished their rounds.
It was then, when the door of his room opened, slightly ajar. Feminine hands grabbed the edge of the door, as blue-haired figure entered through the room. She was still wearing her maidly clothes, somewhat ruffled of the entire evening servitude. The female stepped lightly, as she loomed in on the still sleeping figure of Gillian.
"That was one promise down, sir Gillian. I always make up of my word, unlike my dearest sister." Nero said coyly, as she loomed over the figure of the other knight.
Gillian jumped as her voice hit his ears, reaching for the sword laid next to his bed out of reflex. "oh...Sunfield." the shirtless knight yawns, recognizing her after a moment. "You'll have to forgive me.." He grumbles climbing out of the blankets as best he could. "Busy day?" He asks as he paws for a shirt, hoping the darkness of the room concealed his unwanted appendage.
"Maids are always busy. So are knights." Nero sighed, as she unceremoniously dropped on top of the bed, alleviating the pressure of standing all day on her feet. "But I do like the fact I can grab some master keys for myself." The blue haired woman coyly smiled. "My master always said that servants were good disguises." She said, tilting her head and letting her gaze linger on his figure.
".,,and he probably ran his mouth off on you? So typical of him." Nero said, as she huffed. "Okay, ask."
A silk shirt (albeit unbuttoned) soon covers the young man. "What? No foreplay?" He teases as he lights a kerosene lamp. "Always business with your family isn't it?" He clears his throat, "Very well. As I said this morning, I've a keen interest in the armor your order reportedly had. I'm interested in how you came to possess such a thing...and why you'd think it a wise decision to use something that dangerous to your health. Though I can probably guess the latter."
"Ouch, that wounds me... because clearly, the Sunfields should be all fun and games like that sister of mine." Nero said, slightly chuckling, but with a hint of bitterness. "Who ate the princess cake on her birthday no less." Nero began to say. "Well, let me say you. Sunfields are bound by blood to the Royal family. But our blood claim over the throne is so weak we have no choice but be cornerstones of the order of the kingdom." She cleared her throat, as she then eyed Gillian directly. "Have you known despair, sir Gillian?" The former captain of the Ravens stood on her feet, as she turned her back as she began to browse the wares on the shelf.
variety of books lay on the shelf(and floor...and desk. And in various other places book should not reside.) Mostly they are military histories, a few novels, a strange amount of poetry, and various other genres. "I've had my share." He answers, deciding not to go into detail. She could ask her old assassin if she truly desired to know.
Nero Sunfield skipped most of them, only taking one of the oldest, and thickest books in the shelf, alongside a rolled up map of the kingdoms that had been wedged in between books somehow. Opening the binder and gently dusting it off, she presented it to Gillian. The War against Hidroroth. A war where gods and men battled face to face. A conflict that scarred the word. And the war were the Soulscales were initially deployed, as demonic armors on the side of the dark god. Her finger tapped to a miniature map, of an unspecific location during the war, as she let go of the book and unfolded the map right next to it.
"I did think at first, that going on my own and joining a mercenary band to strike out on my own would be easier. I felt hurt and betrayed by my own sister. I did not have any magic powers back then, unlike her. We mostly got by getting the dirty jobs no other knight would do." Nero Sunfield began to spin her tale. "One of such was barbarian culling." She said, as she began to trace the path in the map with her finger. "So we set forth, north and north, until the frozen reaches of the world. We were doing okay, for such a campaign."
"Until we realized something." She added, as she pointed a spot both in the map and the old book. The resemblance of the landmarks was uncanny. "That was no barbarian invasion, they were running...from something."
"Your armor then I suspect?" He asks, noting with some concern that she'd gone that far north. He'd been well into his sixth year of squire-ship before Parnella even dared let him step foot on those lands. The Sunfields, he decided, were either dangerously reckless or just dangerous full stop. He imagined the truth lay somewhere in the middle of those two.
"The armor was there, yes. But it wasn't the cause. See, these old places are often so scarred... that not even the dead can find peace, and lash out at the living." Nero said, her semblance darkening. "The first of them were manageable, even though we lost a few rank and file." Nero said. "But... when the giant skeletons, and the remains of ancient woolly beasts trapped in ice raised against us, we were like rag dolls in a storm."Nero clutched her fist, obviously not entirely comfortable with the memories.
"I was rank and file back then, command collapsed incredibly quickly. People were dying right and forth, and only me and that old man could find some cover inside a cave, with no other plan but to last some minutes more." Nero said, her voice drowning in a whisper.
Gillian remained quiet. He'd been in similar straits before (though not in such an extreme), and knew there was no comfort to be given on such matters. Knights die. It was a simple reality that those in their profession had to face. "Solid choice..." He offers weakly, "old battlefield like that is bound to have some old trenches or tunnels. Guessing that was the old mans idea?" The words, he knew, would do little to ease the woman. But if there was any comfort to take, it was that tactically that was their best option.
"Not really. We just happened to think the same." Nero said. "But inside that crevice... we found it. The old relic. Although, there was something different about it. See, centuries of being trapped in ice had quelled the destructive temper it once had. She now longed for a cute body to be worn on...just like the old man." Nero said, as her tone raised again. "It was what we needed. The battlefield changer." Nero said.
"For our deeds, we were both knighted and I was given the right to create the Ravens, alongside my fellow survivor." Nero chuckled. "I gotta say I admire Master Rinaldo's vitality. He killed all those undead without any other tools or magic, once he figured a trick. The Master of the Blood Hand Guild knows his craft." She added.
"I'm sure his skills with a blade match his fondness for women..." Gillian grumbled, standing up. "Well, I suppose that answers your end of the bargain, now If you'll excuse me, I need to prepare to head north." He says flatly, going to his wardrobe.
"You'll find nothing but death there." Nero added flatly. "I can see what you're trying to answer. But I can't say that the answer will be there. See, your arm might resemble a Soulscale...but who knows? Someone might've found the old forbidden techniques to create such things and has experimented with them, roaming around the world." Nero said. "I'd advise asking Soulscale first...even if the price might be odd." Nero finished.
Gillian huffs, buttoning his shirt. "No family to miss me. And no blood to fill a title. If I find death, I find death. If not, I might find nothing. At worst odds, its a net gain zero..." He says, voice edge with slight hostility. More agitated at the attempt to dissuade him from finding answers than honestly angry with the woman. "And I'd sooner lose my other arm than trust the words of that...thing. But I'll... consider it" He adds.
"I'll miss you, for once, sir Gillian." Nero said, her voice acquiring a playful tone.
"We're touched. Truly. He retorts, putting on his boots. "Your sincerity burns as brightly as your beauty. And I should fine. Worked alone most of my career."
"I don't really pay attention to that kind of comment." Nero added, closing one of her eyes. "But hey, I warned you. I mean, you're bound to Fanilly, not me, so it's not my problem if a knight of hers goes stupid again." Nero finished, as she began to walk towards the door, having the conversation finished. "Just don't drag my sister dearest with you in your travel." She said, gently closing the door afterwards.
"....Wouldn't dream." He says to himself, in a futile attempt at the last word. He knew she was more than likely right, but this was the only lead he'd gotten in the better part of a decade. A few minutes later he exits the room, locking it tight and descending the stair well. As a courtesy he'd humor her request to talk to soulscale. He relieved the two young knights guarding the chamber, telling them of an unscheduled shift change. It was a lie, but it was so late in the day he doubted being caught.
He pushed open the heavy steel door, cold air from the ice blasting him in greeting. "....Are you conscious?" he asks to the block, eying the armor carefully
The little demonic girl did not even blink, not even stare back. But Gillian could see clearly that there was a pout forming in her factions. Finally, her eyes actually met Gillian's and a clear, mental voice was heard.
"I AM SOULSCALE, AND I DO NOT ANSWER TO MERE MORTALS LIKE YOU."
"I'll be sure to note that." He says, crossing his arms. "Though I'd say you've little to do besides answering to mortals like myself at the moment." He stifled the urge to insult the tantruming child like creature. "My name is Gillian. Nice to meet you." He takes a seat in front of the bars, glaring at the girl. He expected armor, but he supposed the armor was capable of all sorts of things. "I was wondering if you'd be willing to let me ask a few questions." He says flatly.
"..." The armor stood silent for the moment being. "Break me out of here and I shall think about it." She finally added, her gaze eying the man. "Even though you're rather unpalatable, seeing as you have something like me attached already."
"Not a chance in hell." He says. "How would i know you'd not betray me immediately? And that would put my position in this order at risk. At best, we'd both end up in jail. At worst, me dead and you back here. And I'm certainly not risking all of that just for you to think about it."
"Look at my own state. I'm just a little gnat trapped in ice. Me, the great Soulscale! Last of her kind, surviving long after all the others have been destroyed." The creature retorted.
"A little gnat that still proclaims to be great." He adds. "And it is not as though I could remove the seals that contain your body. I'm no mage. And if you left, suspicions would be raised to no end. I will tell you what. Provided you answer my questions, I'll consider helping you." He says, taking the position of power from the armor. It wasn't like it was in the position to make demands, after all.
"Why can't they all be cute girls..." The armor sighed, contemplating her chances. "...well, to be honest, I could just wait. I am a demon after all. I can wait for everyone to die around me, again. But that arm of yours... is intriguing. Fine. We have a deal." Soulscale said.
"An agreement." He said, stubbornly. "Deals imply that I will help you. Give me what I want and I'll consider helping. Now...what can you tell me about my arm." He gently takes off his coat, rolling up his shirt sleeve to let the small demonic entity get a look at it.
"Mmm, it's gross. Like, really gross." Soulscale pondered. "Someone tried to make one of us, but only went halfway, that thing is just raw demonic essence without will nor structure, other than the obvious one. Like if someone stuck a demon finger in your wound and forcibly sewn it together... Seems like someone has been studying my kind around, and has been rather busy." Soulscale said, folding her arms.
"Any way you know of removing it or restoring my arm proper?" He asks, eying the arm. "Preferably without leaving me one arm short oft of a pair. Not keen on getting my arm cut off twice."
"Picky, aren't we. Restoration of flesh isn't my specialty. There is a way, though... but you'd not like it." She smirked. "If you were to become me, i could regrow that missing limb for you." She smiled. "But that would imply losing yourself."
"I've enough trouble with women in my life without becoming one, thank you very much." He said, trying to push the argument with the elder Sunfield out of his mind for now. "And at any rate, that seems to help you more than me. Think harder Scalie."
"Oh, come on, what is not to like of an eternity being able to hug cute women? All men yearn for that. I know. I've been worn by them aeons ago." She chuckled. "Scalie. Nobody has called me that in a long time."
"II know a few men that would consider that less than the ideal." He grumbled, shifting his weight to be comfortable on the stone floor. They really should try and make these cells more accommodating. "Hm. What if I wore you? only for a moment or something along those lines. Could your regeneration help then? Or at least help you analyze the thing better."
"Eew, no. Not in the world. I've had my share of sweaty barbarians during the war. They even do their nature calls inside!".
"I really didn't need to know that...."
"Still, weakened as I am... there might be something that can be done, if you're up for risking your life." The demon grinned. "Normally my essence would kill you and turn you into me, but if we can do it halfway... maybe you can detach and regenerate that arm." She pondered.
"....move your head a little closer." He said, visibly weighing his options.
"Uh. I'm not going to give some of my precious essence for nothing. Your part of the deal needs to be done." She furrowed her brow. "Naturally."
"What do you want then." He barked, loosing his cool a little. Being this close to finally being rid of his arm was starting to affect his judgment. He could feel it, but he also wasn't sure he cared fully.
"The panties of an Elven Princess." The demon giggled in a most mischievous manner. "Find them, and I shall share my essence with you. Or even let myself be worn by you, a notable exception."
Gillian stared at the girl. "...yo.." he stammers, still processing what he heard. "You're joking right?" He stares at her further in disbelief. "....by the gods you're serious. What kind of request even is that?!"
"I AM SOULSCALE, STUPID MORTAL!" She beamed, letting a rather high pitched evil laugh. "Hi hi hi hi! Fortunately for you, according to the rumors you might not need to look very far!"
Gillian remained quiet, still somewhat stunned. "I should have just walked into the death trap..." he grumbles to himself, leaning in and flicking the demon girls forehead. "Fine. I'll find you some panties. But in the meantime, you will behave yourself and do whatever the order tells you. That clear?"
"Not a chance." Soulscale folded her arms pouting. "After all, you just took advantage of being mistreated by my true owner. Or former owner. I belong to no one."
"Fine. I'll make it up to her. But I'm not going on your panty goose chase without an assurance you will be here to fulfill your end. Sound fair?"
"Fair. Now, leave me be, mortal." The demon sighed as she sulked about and minded her own business.
Gillian left shortly there after, standing sentinel outside of the door until the next shift showed up, wondering all the while how the hell his life ended up this way.
"I should have just been a poet..." His whines pulling him from his memories of the last week. Little had been done to acquire panties of any sort, and even less so in making it up to the Sunfields. Hard to recover from admitting you're about to walk in to the most dangerous place in Thaln and abandon your post then show up the next day for morning chit chat. He sits up, legs wobbling a bit from the shaking of the wagon. He leans out the backside of the wagon, yelling forward to the rest of the party. "So any clues what we might be dealing with captain?" He calls, wanting to distract his mind with work.
((quick collab with AN))
FlappyTheSpybot