RP:Tower of Glass

This is a Mage's Guild RP.

Part of the The God of Undeath Arc

Summary: Lanlan appoints a new member of the council and while introducing her, pulls Valrae into a plot to make himself Arch Mage of the guild. The witch agrees to his plan and together they manage to convince enough Magisters to sign the document that will secure his position within the guild.

Mage Tower

This room is huge, and the entire place is covered in blue and white marble, with many torches and eight pillars reaching up to the ceiling to reinforce the room above, and keep the tower standing. The columns are covered in mystical runes, probably magic to keep the pillars strong, making them able to withstand pressure that normally wouldn't be possible. In the center of the room, there is a spiraling staircase made of glass, and also inscribed with the same type of runes as the pillars, leading to the higher levels of this magical tower. Next to the stairs there is a small desk here with a sign on it. At the top the sign reads... directions for all new mages. There is a door to the south, and you now notice that it too, is covered in the strength giving runes, that leads outside and a door to the west leading to the dormitory, a place for young mages to rest after their studies here.

Lanlan :: Voices could be heard from down the hall from Valrae’s door. Lanlan’s and…a stranger’s? Someone very easily forgotten at least. They get closer and louder and closer and louder, and it’s easy enough to make out what they’re saying. Harder in fact, to ignore it. “Where has Fingolfin been keeping you?” Lanlan exclaims at the tail end of a sincere-sounding chuckle, “You know, I’m glad we had this talk, because so many of those fogies on the council are just resting on their laurels. Do you know (and I’m sorry to admit this by the way), that it never even occurred to me: How -does- Fingolfin, in his advanced state, manage to keep that menagerie so full? His daughter does!” Lanlan can’t be seen from the other side of the door, but…almost. The door visibly knocks against its stop as he leans on it. The stranger, apparently Fingolfin’s daughter, replies in her youthful and energetic voice. “Naw don’t be too hard on him! Like I said, he taught me everything I know! And everything he hasn’t forgotten!” They share another lighthearted chuckle at the old man’s expense. “And I’m glad we had this talk too,” she continues, “And I’d be honored to judge yer little pageant thingie.” Lanlan stands up straight again, off of Valrae’s door and knocks lightly on it, and calls her through the wood if she hasn’t already opened it. “Oh Valraaaae! Are you in? There’s someone I’d like you to meet if you are.” Then in a lower voice, but definitely still audible, “It might be hard to win over some of the council members– they’d love to keep it a boys’ club as much as possible. But I have your back, and I’m sure Valrae will too.”

Valrae || Unlike most days, Valrae was not hidden behind a mound of ever growing paperwork. Instead, it sat untouched on her cluttered desk as she moved about her large office. She was plucking fresh leaves from her small, wildly growing window garden and placing them in the stone mortar and pestle that sat in the center of her altar. There was a circle of black salt, a pearled statue of Selene cupping the moon at the northernmost point. On the floor there was a small gilded cage, inside a turtle dove cooed softly. As the voices grew louder, the witch cursed and closed her eyes to the noise. She silently begged the gods to send them away, then cursed them too when they did not. Val toyed with the idea of casting an illusion, perhaps it would be strong enough to fool the Sublime Master that her office was empty enough, she’d fooled him easily enough in her disguise as Grace, but really she would have needed more time to prepare something. Tossing down the little silver brush, she crossed the office and swung the heavy door open. “How can I help you?” Her voice rings out, sweet enough to cause cavities. There was a wide smile fixed on her face, the kind that showed all of her white teeth. She’d taken great pains to glamor herself, to artfully apply her makeup. There was no trace of the fire on her skin, only the illusion of flawless, perfectly blushing cheeks. Her eyes move from Lan’s to the stranger he’d brought with him and the smile falters for a heartbeat. “Who is this?” She steps back into her office, gesturing politely for both of them to enter, her long cream colored skirts rustling with the movement. “Would either of you like tea?”

Lanlan holds his hand against Valrae’s door politely, as if it might swing back and smack his guest. She occupies the entirety of the doorframe, or nearly, causing Lanlan to flatten against it as reward for his chivalry. “I’m Amorelly,” she says proudly as she looks into Valrae’s eyes, but only for a moment, then she’s exploring the room. Lanlan takes the reigns back for a moment as he follows her through the door, but one look upon Valrae’s face and he’s stunned, for just an instance. He forgot. Luckily, Valrae must’ve glamoured herself. “Y-Yes! Meet Amorelly, our newest council member. Did you know,” Lanlan begins, informing Valrae of something that, at least since a moment ago, she definitely did know. “Did you know that she’s Fingolfin’s daughter? And that -she’s- the one who’s been capturing those magical creatures for…years now, right? And yet, I don’t think I’ve ever even seen her before! Anyway, she’s also our newest council member! I’ve just given her a tour, but I wanted her to meet you especially.” One look at her, and it’s difficult to tell if Lanlan was manipulating her when he said that the other council members might not approve. It would be easy to imagine him telling the truth in this case. She’s dressed lightly, in form fitting clothes that would be unlikely to ever get caught or snagged on a branch or fence. Her hair is done in a tight bun that doesn’t seem to offer any purchase for snagging fingers or claws. No chance of a hindrance due to fashion. Her bare arms are toned and strong, sometimes scarred, and her hands are calloused from work. Lanlan looks pale by comparison. Lanlan looked at her with a strange mix of pride and wonder. ‘Look at what I found’, he seemed to be saying. “Ohh, I don’t think tea is really–” Lanlan begins to say, but Amorelly cuts her off. “Yes please! I’ve been stuck boiling dandelion roots for weeks now, I hope you have something better.” Lanlan grew silent after his mistake, and Amorelly continued perusing Valrae’s room. “I should know what this is for…” she says, gesturing with her chin toward the ritual they seemed to be interrupting. “But…I can’t remember.” She offered Valrae a slight shrug and an apologetic look to make up for it.

Valrae fixed her gaze upon Lanlan and did not miss his surprise at her glamoured appearance. There was a flash of hurt in her eyes, gone so quickly it might have been a trick of the low light in the office. “Amorelly!” She repeats cheerily, the tone false but convincing as her smile returns. “What a lovely name.” As she moved about the room, the witch’s eyes followed her. “Hmm,” She replies vaguely to Lanlan as he fills her in. “Tea it is!” Valrae waves her hand at the shelf she’d designated for her tea supplies and they begin to move. A little white teapot with powdery blue flowers painted daintily on it floated toward the low burning fire as matching cups danced across the air toward the small table that sat between her high backed chairs. “It’s your lucky day,” Val tells her sweely, crossing the room to a wooden box that holds an array of loose tea. She passed it to the other woman’s hands so that she could browse. “I have a selection. I can’t seem to stop myself from buying every new blend I lay my eyes on. Happens everytime I go to the market.” As Amorelly’s attention focused on the overwhelming options, Valrae turned her dark eyes toward Lan. “Our newest council member then? I hadn’t known we were expanding but this is wonderful news.” As she spoke, she carefully covered the dove’s cage and offered an apologetic smile to Amorelly as she passed the box back to her. “Oh, this? Just something I picked up for my son. The altar is still a mess from my last attempt at a sleeping draught that doesn’t leave that dirt taste in your mouth. You know the one I’m meaning?” She places the box on the table and laughs lightly. “Magical creatures though? That’s incredible. You must have seen amazing things.”

Lanlan pays Valrae enormous consideration in her reactions to Amorelly, but shifts his gaze away when she might look toward him. When Amorelly is drawn into the near infinite options of tea-choices, Valrae fixes her eyes on Lanlan. He looks coy. “Yes! Weren’t you saying how you were…disappointed! in how passive the council has gotten lately?” Of course, Lanlan didn’t ever hear Valrae say that. “As Sublime Master it falls to me to…spur them on!” With regard to Valrae’s question about the sleeping draught, Amorelly replies somewhat absently, “I know of some soporific potions I use in my bait traps…but I actually don’t take them myself!” Lanlan rolls his eyes at her turned back, “Haha how nice to be so carefree!” Suddenly, Lanlan curls his fingers and makes a *pop* sound with his lips, and tiny bells start ringing serenely from something on his person. “Oh! Is it -that- time already? Amorelly, I must confess something,” he says regretfully as the alarm bells stop, “I actually ended the tour here on purpose because Valrae and I have another meeting to go to! Would you mind if you maybe…took your tea to go?” Then he turns to Valrae as he says, “I’m sure Valrae wouldn’t mind if you returned her teacup later?” Assuming Valrae is okay with this…Amorelly would oblige. “Oh thank the GODS,” she says, “I gotta say. I like this place? But I -really- can’t stay trapped inside like this too long. It…gets to me.” Lanlan keeps maintains a smile that just barely manages to not look smarmy. She quickly leaves, after suddenly making a tea choice. “Finally…So Valrae,” he says, “Sorry I just had to get rid of her, umm. I really do have a meeting with Foreza though. But would you mind accompanying me? I heard he has a bit of a temper.”

Valrae’s nose twitches. She had said that but how it had gotten back to Lanlan she’d never know. There was the ghost of humor in her eyes as well. “I see.” She comments, again without commenting. It was very unlike her to remain so passive, still she was unsure of what schemes Lanlan had been cooking and decided it would be safer to hold her cards to her chest for now. “Oh? Well, it’s a horrible taste they leave. Truly.” She says to Amorelly’s comment of sleeping draughts. When the bells chime her golden brow wings in surprise. “Busy today, are we?” She murmurs mostly to herself, watching quietly as Lan expertly dismisses the newest member of the council away with a skill that she almost admired. “Just a moment.” She says, letting the tea pour itself as she carefully wraps a bit of her chosen blend in a small, bright yellow drawstring bag. “It was a pleasure to meet you,” The witch says as she presses the bag and cup into the other woman’s hands. “I look forward to working with you.” When she’s gone from the room, Valrae crosses her arms around herself. “What was that about, then?” She asks Lan, grabbing her wand before following him out of her office. “And why are you worried about Foreza’s temper, exactly?” The locks click quietly behind her as she shuts the door to her office.

Lanlan smiled anxiously at Valrae. “You see? Is that all you have to say about it…?” The suspense. But then he had to give Valrae away to Amorelly again. “We don’t want to be late…” he mutters, but Amorelly patiently waits for Valrae’s gift, and then holds her hands gently and bows a little to demonstrate her appreciation. “It was very good to meet you, Valrae,” she says sincerely. Then she leaves out the door. Without, Lanlan notices, saying bye to him. Lanlan opens his mouth to speak, but is promptly cut off. By the huntress. “Look for me in Sage!” Lanlan waits an extra few exaggerated seconds in case there was more. “No? Done…? Okay,” Lanlan says, reluctant to actually explain what that was about. “Uh, we can talk on the way, can’t we?” But it was a short walk, and Lanlan planned on walking fast. “Look, nobody’s happy with the council, are they? They aren’t even happy with each other!” He seemed positively -thrilled- to reveal this. It took some time, but he learned some things about them. Who could’ve guessed that he could actually be quite the industrious gossip-monger? “The real question is,” he says, committing to changing the subject without having an idea. “Is how are you?” He had to go with it now. “I haven’t seen you much since Cenril.” At least one of them was avoiding the other. “I know it didn’t exactly go as planned…” the sounds of people brought abruptly back to life, rotting limbs and all. Their agonized wails still echoed through his skull. "But I thought I was, I mean it's nobody's fault. How it ended up."

Valrae tilted her face to Lanlan as they walked, her short hair brushing against the high collar of her dress. Her eyes were dark as she watched him through her lashes, even though the corners of her lips twitched as if they wanted to smile at his glee as he spoke of the council’s poor favor. The amused and long suffering expression dropped away into a mask of nothingness when he abruptly changed the subject to Cenril. “I’m fine.” She says quickly, her tone dismissive. “I’m just as well as anyone. I’m alive, aren’t I?” The witch looks away from him now, her emerald gaze focused on the largely empty hall they were passing through as her shoulders tensed and her spine became rigid. She could hear the screams as well, and when she was alone she thought the scent of death crept in to gag her. But there was no room in her chest for grief, for mourning the friends she’d lost. There was only the ever growing chasm of guilt that threatened to open its mouth and swallow her whole. “Oh,” Came her soft reply then, as Lan offered words that seemingly were aimed at comfort. Her lip trembled as her feet stalled. The tension did not leave her though. Still she did not look at him. Instead, she simply began walking again and painted another smile across her lips. “Thank you for saying so,” She says woodenly. “I appreciate all you did, Lan.” The sincerity she had been missing warms her tone now. “If I haven’t said that yet, I do. You’re a good friend to me, and to Cenril, and I won’t forget it.” Determined not to linger on this bizarre display of affection for him, the witch carries on. “But that doesn’t mean you get to weasel out of telling me what you’re actually up to.”

Lanlan slid his cane out of his snug sleeve mid stride as his breaths became deeper, even as he tried to disguise them. He tried his best to remain ahead of Valrae, so he couldn’t catch her gaze. The glamorous replaced the wounds convincingly, and Lanlan would never try to see through them, or even acknowledge them. That would be bad etiquette, ruining a fellow practitioner’s ruse when it wasn’t designed for you. To the contrary, it was he who didn’t want to be revealed. He reacted with inappropriate exuberance to her lies about being okay. “Of course! You’re alive! I agree, that is the most important thing.” No point in worrying about those that weren’t. As they approached the door to Foreza’s office, he slowed. Partly so he could catch his breath. Mostly to see what she meant by thanking him. Abruptly he stops and scrutinizes her. “Of course, I did what I thought needed to be done,” he says cautiously. “And I did it for you, because you’re a very good friend to me, as well. Maybe I don’t say that enough.” He’s never said it. “Well,” he said as he brought the cane up to Foreza’s door, ready to knock on it. But he stops. “Okay.” He had to tell her something, didn’t he? He takes a deep breath. “I…” He takes another deep breath, and then seems committed, he holds his hand out to her, willing that she understand. He leans in close so he can whisper, muffling his voice against the wall. “We have to face the fact that Odhranos might never wake up, Valrae. How long has it been? And he’s my best friend, you know he is. So you know I’m not saying this just so I–” He won’t even finish putting that idea in her head. “The guild needs an archmage. Doesn’t it? And we can’t let some idiot fill the position can we?” He barely takes a breath. “I’m going to be archmage, and I’m not going to let these imbeciles get in my way. Are you gonna help me?”

The downward twitch of her lips was all that gave away that Valrae might have noticed Lanlan’s breathing as his cane appeared. She thought back to the day she’d confronted him about removing Kasyr from the guild and the scars he’d shown her then. She wondered, for the thousandth time, how much of his laboring breath had been dealt by Kasyr’s hand. She looked surprised when he said he’d done it for her and her golden brows nearly disappeared into her hairline when he called her his friend. Not because she didn’t believe it, because the more time she spent with him she did, but because it was so jarring to hear him say it. The witch had come to understand their relationship was more sharing vague insults and lively debates, more than it had ever been sharing feelings and words of affection. It left her feeling out of balance and more than a little touched. Her gaze softened, her shoulders relaxing as she offered him a delicate smile. No, he’d never said it, but she assumed it all the same. “I know.” She replies quietly. As he leans in, Valrae finds herself doing the same as she takes the hand he offers into her own and she listens. A shadow of grief moves across her face as Lan admits the truth she often ignored. No, Odhranos never waking was not something she’d allowed herself to dwell on. Ignoring the twinge of jealousy that came from Lan’s claim that the archmage was his best friend, Valrae nodded as she pursed her lips. Little pieces of the puzzle he’d placed in front of her began to click into place in her mind, even as he led her to the bigger picture. Her breath hisses out quietly when he finally speaks the words aloud. The witch could suddenly hear the echo of the words she’d spoken to him when she’d confronted him for taking the Sublime Master’s position for himself. ‘This guild needs sound, good leadership. Someone who knows how to put themselves and their petty frakking grievances aside.’ Had she been fair? Had her mistrust in him been warranted? ‘But I cursed you -because- you didn’t trust me. Remember?’ Now it was the phantom of Lanlan’s voice in her mind. There was something delicate in her chest, some pain she could not vocalize or define, as she looked at him now. “Okay.” Valrae whispered, feeling for all the world as if she were standing on the edge of some very tall cliff. “I’m going to help.” Whispering between the words, and written in the darkest shadows of her eyes, the truth of what she was saying was ‘I’m trusting you.’.

Lanlan knew what she was feeling when he brought up Odhranos, because he was the same to her as he was to him: a friend. A real one. And no one would ever take that from them, not Haladavar, not Ernest, not the Gods. He would be back, and then things would be just like they were. An overwhelming part of Lanlan believed that, for a long time. And then…he saw him floating, lifeless. Like a fish in a bowl, a piece of living art or a trophy. The illusion dissipated in that moment, and so he told Valrae his plan, knowing as soon as he did, it could be ruined. Then she hesitated, and he knew he made a mistake. And as his eyes stared into hers, gaze switching from eye to eye while his mind reeled at what he should do, at what he must do, at what he would allow himself to do…! But then he resigned, and knocked on Foreza’s door. He couldn’t do anything, not now. What was this anyway besides some spiteful test? Of course! That’s what it was, he told her knowing that she wouldn’t trust him, only to prove the point to himself: You’re alone Lanlan, and you always have been. Fine. Instead he counterfeits a smile, wide and mischievous as he begins to explain that this was all a ruse. “O-Okay?” Stunned, stupefied, and no longer smiling. “You will?” His eyes soften as she hands his heart back to him unscathed and whole. A gruff voice calls from the other side of the door. “It’s OPEN.” It comes as a command, impatient. How many times had he already welcomed them while Lanlan was laid out? Then his eyes harden again as he puts on his mask, becoming the person he needs to be. He still looked the same. With an arrogant stroll, he connects with Foreza’s desk, accidentally apparently. Foreza, who was poring over a large map covered with tiny flags, is the guardian of the mage’s guild. All the patrols were organized by him, using this map. And Lanlan just knocked several of them over with his clumsiness. He would start off slow. “Foreza! It’s good to see you, mind if I sit?” He does so as Foreza grumbles agreeably, replacing some of the pieces. Then, flattening out his brocade jerkin, he begins. “You’ve been here at the guild for…how long? Longer than me,” says Lanlan with a chuckle. “And I’ve been here almost nine years!” The half-orc battlemage looks up briefly from his map of patrols, wondering what the smarmy elf was getting at. “No wife,” Lanlan continues. “No kids. Some would say you are totally devoted to this place.” Lanlan pauses, giving him a chance to answer.

“I love this guild,” he says gruffly, perhaps even defensively. Lanlan looks at Valrae approvingly. It’s what he hoped to hear. “As do I! As do I…that is exactly why I’m here. See I’ve been talking to the other members of the council, and we agree: The guild needs a leader. The world needs an archmage, and if it was me–” Foreza cuts him off here, without looking up from his map. “I’ll never vote for a snake like you,” he says as he pushes a tiny flag to a new place to see how it looks.

Valrae hides her laugh behind a hand, poorly attempting to disguise it as a cough, as she follows Lanlan into Foreza’s office. She was pleased to have surprised him but whatever small pleasure she gained from this slipped away as he bumps into the other man’s desk and sends his maps sliding across the floor. The witch offers him a polite smile, one that he returns with a curt nod. The pair of them had shared a handful of mild but pleasant interactions. Mostly, over collecting tea from the kitchens and from small shared smiles when she was giving Kyl'oriel a hard way to go. “Oh no,” She says softly. Moving quietly as the men speak, she collects the fallen maps while listening. With her face hidden behind a short golden curtain of hair, her nose wrinkles in confusion. It would seem the common ground the guild’s Guardian and the witch shared was little more than lavender tea and plain speaking though, as it became abundantly clear he held no fondness in his heart for Lanlan. Why was Lanlan antagonizing Foreza this way? Placing the maps back on his desk, the witch just catches the look Lan gives her and smiles hesitantly. She opens her mouth, but before she can speak Foreza has cut Lanlan off. He’d cut through any hope with a handful of words. It would be impressive if it weren’t exactly the opposite of the goal she’d only just agreed to share. “Foreza…” She starts carefully, “If you don’t mind my saying, I’ll be the first to admit that I had my own hesitations. Lanlan has a… Colorful reputation that oftentimes proceeds him. But I think, if you give him the opportunity, you’ll find the same that I have. A powerful, clever mage who shares that love of our guild. And a willingness to serve it.” She pauses, watching his face carefully, but only for a moment. “It’s true enough, we do not know when Odhranos intends to return. The only direction he’s given us in his absence is that we can and should trust Lanlan. I believe that, and I believe in the guidance given to us. I would hope that you could have that same faith.”

Lanlan appears unfettered when Foreza sharply cuts him off to reject him. “I see,” he says with no hint of sadness. He only briefly looks Valrae’s way as she showers him with compliments. How much of it did she mean and how much of it was played up for the show? Was this theatre for her as much as him? Cautiously, he assumes yes, and gently places one hand on her wrist and the other over his heart, to communicate his thanks. Dramatically. Foreza however, isn’t swayed in the least. “Valrae, I’m truly appalled to hear you vouch for this man,” he says. “I don’t know what dirt he could possibly have on you…? But I can’t help you. Now please.” He gestures toward the door.

“You know,” says Lanlan, ignoring Foreza’s invitation to quit the office. “I heard you used to have Oriyan’s position. Teaching the apprentices. Now I’ve been in Oriyan’s classes,” he says with a playful grin. “They’re pointless! A hedge wizard could learn just as much in the same amount of time through trial and error! But why did you leave your post? I imagine if you were still teaching the apprentices,” Lanlan shifts his leg and ‘accidentally’ nudges the desk again, tipping over a couple pieces. “They would’ve fared so much better against the Ossian Order. So…why?” Nobody else would answer this either. Not Oriyan, not Lorkain, not even Kyl’oriel.

“Didn’t that protective barrier come up around the same time?” Foreza flinches at this question, accidentally knocking over one of his own pieces. Blood is in the water now, and Lanlan smells it. “I think I know why you stopped teaching. You had no choice. You were in those classrooms, teaching those kids, those ingrates, and you with your abilities, you had to constantly restrain yourself! When did you ever get to flex your abilities? Never.” Lanlan leaned in close. “But you wanted to. You wanted to hurt something. Someone. You wanted to test yourself for a change. Haha, yes! I can see it! I can always see it, everyone can. You might be half human but you’re half orc too. I get it! Sometimes you just wanna,” Lanlan slams his fist on the table, knocking over yet more pieces as Foreza tries to stand them back up in their proper positions. “Break something. So what happened? You finally found this one student who you thought was a real prodigy? Cocky little twerp, probably thought he could take you, I bet he challenged you, huh, and you hated that. Little idiot, thinking he could take on,” Lanlan stands up and puffs out his chest, mocking Foreza’s musculature, “Big strong Foreza! So you showed him. But you really hurt him. Didn’t you? I mean really hurt him. Didn’t you?” Foreza’s fists were clenched on the table as he stared down at his pieces, but he was reigning his temper in. Lanlan loomed over his desk, leaning on it with both hands. With a shaky hand, Foreza slowly aims toward adjusting just one more piece. Then Lanlan snaps his hand out like a snake and slaps it against the map, casting all the pieces against the wall. “Admit it! You destroyed that kid and you loved it.” With his other hand behind his back, Lanlan signals calm to Valrae. Foreza lunged out of his seat in that second and slammed a heavy fist into Lanlan’s face with a sickening crack. And suddenly Lanlan’s flat against the stone wall, mouth agape, sliding gradually down until he lands on his knees. “It was an accident,” Foreza says finally, scowling at Lanlan, pleading with his eyes at Valrae. “It was an accident,” he repeats. Chest heaving, he gradually sits back down, attempting to process the implications of what just happened.

The corner of Valrae’s lip twitches as she fights the laugh that bubbles to her throat when Lan takes her wrist. She could see by the look on Foreza’s face that her words weren’t impressive to him and Lanlan’s theatrics were… Worse. Her mood shifts abruptly at his next words. Her head snaps back, the waves of her hair moving as if he had landed a physical blow against her. “Foreza.” She breathes his name, the insult to her character stinging as bitterly as an actual slap to the face might have. “How could you suggest-" But Lanlan was speaking again. Her mouth snaps shut, her jaw clenching until her teeth ache. Confusion passes like a cloud over her features, her hands folding together as she listens and waits. She couldn’t imagine what Lan was getting at. What was the point of all of this? She hadn’t known Foreza had been teaching before Oriyan, so she quietly files that information away as she listens and struggles to piece together whatever motivation Lan had for continuing to speak. Shouldn’t they just leave? But Foreza was flinching, and Valrae was closely watching the lines of the Guardian’s face. When the small flags fall over, her hands twitch to clean up the mess and so she presses them together more tightly. Her head tilts as Lanlan continues, her dark gaze slinging between them for a moment. Her hands drop to her side as he continues, she opens her mouth to speak, to stop him, but stops as Lanlan stands. Surely they were leaving now. But he continues, and time begins to crawl. The witch felt the situation sliding out of control, the small hair on the back of her neck prickling with unease. “Now, wait-” But no one was listening to her. Foreza’s furious gaze was deadlocked on to the drow now. The horror of the tale Lan wove settled around Val slowly, the truth of it revealed in the way Foreza’s jaw tightened and his temple throbbed. When Lanlan’s hand meets the desk Valrae yelps, her body jerking in surprise, and the little flags go flying. In the peripherals of her vision she could see the motion Lanlan made behind his back but it did little to slow the racing drum of her heartbeat. She had no time to react as the Guardian’s fist collided with the Sublime Master’s face. The sound that followed echoed in her mind even as she drew her wand. “Foreza!” She screamed, throwing herself between him and Lanlan’s crumbled body. Her wand trembled as she pointed it toward him, her stance widening defensively. Every muscle in her body was tense and ready for more violence, even as Foreza sat back in his chair. His pleading gaze did little to ease the rising fury in her chest. Her cheeks bloomed red in her anger as she cursed. “What the-" The crash of books falling from a shelf drowned out whatever word she said next. A heartbeat passed. No one moved. Valrae cursed again, lowering her wand to go to Lanlan’s side. As she kneels, she reaches out to him. “Are you alright?” The sound of a closed fist meeting flesh replays in her mind and the witch fights a wave of nausea as she assesses the damage done to Lan’s face. Her horror gives way to temper again and, without turning, the witch flings a very insulting curses over her shoulder at the guardian, most that imply some very cruel and possibly unfair things about men as a whole.

For unmeasured time, Lanlan stands blinking away the stars he sees twinkling in his vision. His hair’s wet on the side of his face that kissed the wall, and he takes in the visions of the room as if he’s never been in it before. When he seems to have some senses back, Valrae’s there. “I’m alright I think. What happened? Did he…?” The confirmation comes from Valrae’s impressive language. When Lanlan stands again, it’s with her help and he nearly falls back down. Slowly, he wobbles back to Foreza’s desk and sits down in the same chair. Clearly dazed, but he touches two fingers to the part of his face that hit the wall. Blood. Letting his head rest against the back of the cushioned chair, he closes his eyes while he fumbles in his sleeve for something. Eventually he pulls out a small hand mirror and with some effort, pulls his head off the cushion and looks into it. He sighs and leans his head into his hand, covering up one of his eyes. “Now that you’ve gotten that spasm of juvenility out of your system,” Lanlan says without looking up. “I think we can talk.” Lanlan slides a recently crinkled up piece of paper onto the map and in front of Foreza. The implication is clear: Violence against another member is grounds for exile. Lanlan has a witness and Foreza has a history. The rest doesn’t matter. Foreza signs his name next to Amorelly’s and Throckmorton’s, on the document that would ratify Lanlan as Archmage. “Good,” Lanlan says, secretly wishing he would’ve deliberated some more so he could rest in that chair. But he doesn’t. Step by step, Lanlan makes it out the door and leans against the wall with his hand over his left eye. “That went well, didn’t it?” Lanlan asks Valrae optimistically. But he hasn’t let go of that mirror, and periodically peers at it under the hood made by his cupped hand. “Should’ve went to Kyl’Oriel first.”

Panic bubbles to the surface, just below the simmering rage that wound around her and left her as tense as a bow’s string, as she sees the blood on Lanlan’s face. She helps him stand and nearly grunts under the weight of him. None of this effort stops her from staring daggers into the explosive Guardian as she watches Lanlan lower himself into the chair. There was little else to say now, Foreza’s temper and lack of control had cost him his choice in this. And the witch’s sympathy for him had evaporated like mist in the morning sun. When they’ve finally left him, Valrae hovers like a bee. “Lan!” She hisses his name, “That did not go well! Look at you!” How could he really? Or hadn’t he already? It didn’t matter. “We have to get you cleaned up first.” She curses again, looking around as if she’d already forgotten where they were. There were public water closets nearby, so she led them both there. The witch walked slowly, keeping herself close in case he needed support. It was a small room. There were enchanted water basins along one wall and this was where she steered him. “I’m *not* a healer,” She chides him, moving to the small shelves that housed several clean cloths. Her magic slaps out as she flicks her wrist toward the basin and the water begins gently pouring into it. “You’re going to have to deal with that until we can get you to the guild’s healers.” She plunges the rag into the tepid water and rings it out quickly, her movements quick and efficient. “Kyl’Oriel is going to have questions about that,” She warns, moving to gently clean his face in an absent minded way. Her hands were gentle though, mindful as to not cause him further pain. “Maybe I could try a little…” She offers.

Lanlan laughs at her pessimism, still a little delirious. “What do you mean? He signed it didn’t he? He hits like a baby it doesn’t even hurt.” Yet. “Hmm.” He considers whether or not he should be cleaned up. “Do you think so? Hmm where are you going? No. This isn’t his office, is it? Ohh I see.” He starts to do the things to get cleaned, but she’s just much quicker than he is. Also he likes the attention. “Yeah you can do it…This will go away, right?” He looks all around the room with his eyeballs. Or…tries to. Only one of them moves. The other hangs lazily looking left. “Noo. No, Kyl’oriel,” he begins, closing his eyes. “I got him a book deal with Gryphon Pharm Publishing, so this will be easy. You just let me handle him. That idiot.” He takes this chance to just rest, closing his eyes, while Valrae works her magic. But soon, its time to go. Time to wake up, to snap back. He takes some deep breaths. “Okay.” In front of Kyl’oriel’s door, Lanlan frets over his appearance a bit more, in particular his weird chameleon eye. “I really should’ve come here first…” But then he knocks twice, and opens the door. “Kyl’oriel!” He exclaims jovially, masking his anxiety. “How’s the book coming?”

Kyl’oriel appears a little impatient, reluctant to look up from his manuscript, but smiles all the same. “The account of your interactions with Haladavar, both pre and post emergence additive upon what has since become common knowledge provided a desperately needed preamble in understanding the breadth of this ancient scribe’s brilliance. Quite the magnanimous contribution, I’m much obliged.”

After ignoring most of what the man said, Lanlan hones in on the last sentence. “I was hoping you’d say so,” says Lanlan. “Because as it happens, I do have a favor, and it might even follow naturally from what you have written in that book.” Kyl’oriel seems to show the appropriate amount of zeal, though it might be completely fabricated. “Excellent! I’d be delighted to facilitate an endeavor of yours, it’s only fair. I assume you needed some of the knowledge I’ve accrued in my years of searching? That’s fairly typical and I’m happy to offer it.”

Lanlan smiles, “Actually it’s something else this time, and it’ll take no time at all. Just,” Lanlan offers Kyl’oriel the document that would make him archmage, if only it had but two more signatures. “Ah! But I’m afraid I can’t.” Lanlan’s face instantly sours. “You see, I too have an inclination toward becoming archmage. I’m sure you’d sympathize, and even agree! My tenure and contributions to the Mage’s guild far exceed yours. And this book will cement that fact.”

Lanlan bursts into boisterous laughter. “You!? I’ve done more for this guild on my walk to your office you old windbag! What have you done, but craft theories you’re too afraid to test? You barely leave the tower! Besides, no one would vote for you over me.” Kyl’oriel frowns briefly over the petty insults, but pushes the document away and settles into a clever and knowing grin once Lanlan suggests he’s actually more popular. “We all know what you are Lanlan, even Valrae over there, who you seem to have bewitched somehow. You. Are. A. Fraud. A charlatan. A snake. We all know and we tolerate you because ultimately? You’re harmless. We elected to ban you, not because we believed Quintessa you imbecile. You? Hurt Kasyr? It was because we don’t like you.” He scoffs as Lanlan smolders and stutters.

Valrae had snorted when Lan claimed the hit Foreza had landed ‘didn’t even hurt’. “Okay, okay,” She murmurs, in the way of women everywhere who have decided to play along to spare a man’s ego. When he asks if it will go away she winces. “Uh… Yeah when we get you to a healer. I’m not a healer.” Still, she offered him what little magic she could to ease the pain. It wasn’t much. She looks away and tosses the spent rag into a bin when his eye begins to… Move in a way the other doesn't. She might have suggested they go to the healer first but he seemed set to head toward Kyl’oriel’s instead and Valrae no longer felt like arguing. The witch walked closer to him now, hovering in her way for fear he might not fully make it to the next office. When he floats in though, loudly exclaiming his welcome, Valrae paints a pretty smile on her face. It was nearly impossible not to yawn as the magister began speaking. She couldn’t even force herself to focus on his words. Instead, her attention wandered around his office. It was as boring as the man himself, somehow. Muted tones, nothing out of place. She wrinkled her nose. Her attention peaked at the mention of Haladavar but it quickly tapered off again the longer he spoke. When Kyl’oriel mentions his own ambition to become archmage her eyes narrow on him. The laugh that escapes her is frosty and void of any true humor. Lanlan replies but this does little to sway him. In fact, he returns the insults. Like Foreza, his comments seemed to land particularly hard on the witch. Her frown deepened into a scowl.

“If you’re quiet finished,” She says, her tone hard and clipped. “No one has ‘bewitched’ me,” Her hands fly up to make air quotes around the term. “And that you would suggest such a thing is offensive and, to be blunt,”

Kyl’oriel interrupts her here, saying, “I’ve never known you to practice the art of subtlety.”

Valrae’s eyes narrow, but she continues, “Using that term is exactly the kind of ignorance one can expect from the father of the very queen who burned me at the stake. Do you think, in today's climate, anyone would support you when they found out Josleen, the queen of Larket, was your daughter?”

Kyl’oriel, for once, seemed stunned speechless. His face reddened, particularly when Valrae accused him of ignorance, but before he could speak the witch continued. “Larket, the same Kingdom that not so very long ago nearly went to war with Xalious? Larket, who burned a Magister of this guild? In fact, I think this information could ruin you now. Would anyone feel comfortable with you serving the council if they had to question where your loyalties lie? And now you’re admitting to me you removed Lanlan for the crime of ‘annoying’ you?”

The witch takes the paper from Lanlan, placing it gently on the desk in front of Kyl’oriel as she leans in. Smiling sweetly, she places a quill next to his hand as well. “And if you think for a single moment I would have any reservations about ruining you, you have no idea how hot that fire burned.”

Lanlan can feel her doubting his toughness after the wallop he took. “It really is okay! No actually, I can barely feel anything…” But that optimism, however farcical, quickly fades. “...Not a healer? But in Cenril. All the…dead. You healed them didn’t you?” She did return their souls to them. Many of them had to contend with the necrosis afterward. “Surely you can manage even just a little…it’s one little eye! I thought…hmm.” He looks genuinely worried, but he bottles it up. Compressing the panic at being stuck like this under a few deep breaths. He’ll need sunglasses. He wishes he had them here in Kyl’Oriel’s office, so he could pretend not to be so ashamed. He knew he wasn’t popular, but he never considered it went so far. Or…maybe he did. He became small. Insignificant. Exposed and vulnerable. And to make matters worse, Valrae actually laughed! He couldn’t look at either of them. He should kill Kyl’Oriel for this, he thought…but he can’t. Not with Valrae present, a witness! Oh sweet poetic justice! His witness against Foreza, now Kyl’Oriel’s against poor Lanlan. No, he should’ve known that Kyl’oriel had these ambitions, and killed him sooner. Nothing to do now but retreat. Lick his wounds and disappear for a few days to save face, and come up with some way to stop this from happening. There was still Karasu and Lorkain, wasn’t there? Surely one of them… But then Valrae, the rescuer, cuts through his thoughts with her humorless tone. Lanlan’s instantly enthralled by her. Could it be true? Josleen, the Queen of Mean, is Kyl’oriel’s daughter? Why didn’t Lanlan know this. It couldn’t be true. But it’s plain to see in the other elf’s face. Kyl’oriels as stunned as Lanlan, but there’s something else: fear. And Lanlan thrives off it, recuperating, feathers bright and fluffy and luminous. Still, he looks up to Valrae, who seems to be a hundred feet tall.

When she’s finished speaking, Lanlan basks in the silence. Kyl’oriel’s closed mouth was such a rare bird, it should be savored. “I can’t believe it,” he says at last, loving to believe it. “It’s haunting to imagine. How many of his decisions were tainted, how many secrets have been divulged…! This is–” He’s cut off.

“I’ll sign,” says Kyl’Oriel, and he touches the tip of his pen to paper. Then he stops. “How do I know you won’t try to ruin me anyways out of petty revenge, even if I do sign?”

It was a good question, because Lanlan was going to sooner or later, but the fear amused him. “Valrae,” says Lanlan full of camaraderie, “don’t you think he ought to be given the chance to earn our trust back? Sure it could take a while, but I think if he starts soon, he might get there. Couldn’t hurt to let him try?” Imagine having Kyl’oriel as a lackey? Lanlan can. Kyl’oriel signs, and Lanlan takes the document out the door with him. “Productive as usual Kyl’oriel! Thanks again.” He holds the door away from Valrae, as if she’s too regal and majestic to touch such a mundane thing. And then he stares at her with a grin of perplexity and amusement. “Valrae,” he whispers. “Blackmail? You?” Of course, this was at least her second use of it. Then he gets serious, but sighs out some leftover tension. “You saved me in there,” he says, letting her know he knew. “I just want to say, Valrae. Thank you. And I know we didn’t know each other back then, but if you ever want to do something about what happened to you…or anything else, really…” He doesn’t need to finish, she gets it. That felt a little heavy, and he begins to walk with her. Back to her office, presumably. Somehow, he had to ask her for one more favor, and there was a reason he saved it for last.

Valrae had no idea that Lanlan might have thought her laugh had been at his expense. She was oblivious to his inner world, solely focused on Kyl’oriel as she sought to threaten ruin upon him in any way that would matter. It might have been a touch humorous to her to consider that Lan’s faith in her could be so shaken by a simple laugh. Especially when he had seemed so hurt that she’d had her own faith dashed when he’d cursed her to bray like an ass. Or it might have wounded her, considering she had agreed to help him accomplish this goal and Valrae prided herself on her ability to keep her word. Still, it was done and she might never know. The witch didn’t straighten until the elf had put pen to paper and signed his name. Even then, as Lan spoke of him earning forgiveness and trust, her eyes were hard and cold. Like chipped pieces of emerald as she watched him. “Perhaps,” She agrees halfheartedly. “Though mercy was not something his daughter ever offered me.”

The witch said no more as she sailed out of the office, thanking Lanlan for holding the door for her with a quick nod. It wasn’t until he breathed her name that she stopped her brisk pace. She turned to look at him, her anger still painting the lines of her glamoured face, “What?” Val asks stiffly, confusion passing like a cloud for the look he was giving her. “I’ve done worse before. I’ll do even worse yet, I’m sure.” It was clear that in her anger she was thinking of more than blackmail. Perhaps she was thinking of the night in Cenril, or others in Larket. She wouldn’t elaborate though. Instead, she softens. As Lan thanks her, her shoulders slack. “You’re welcome. I’m sorry for what he said about you. It’s not true.” She replies delicately, reaching out to gently brush his shoulder as he offers more. “It’s alright. What is done is done. What is gone is gone.” They begin walking again and her face grows thoughtful. It had been some time that she’d been reminded of Larket, of her death there and the injustice of it all. She was surprised to find that the wounds that had been left inside of her still ached. And bled. “I don’t often think of it,” She says aloud, surprising herself as they enter the quiet of her office. The fire was burning low. “It hurts less that way.” She tilted her face as she looked at him, watching him carefully. She wondered if he understood. “Would you like tea?”

Lanlan glanced at Kyl’oriel one last time when Valrae left his fate ambiguous. ‘Perhaps’, she said, when it came to sparing his future and legacy, and Lanlan relished his look of worry. Kyl’oriel, always so imperious, now brought so low. But then, Lanlan had to hurry to catch up with her, so invigorated by passion, she was. Luckily she stops for him. “Yeah maybe you’ve done worse to other people, but you did this for me. It’s…different.” Lanlan was truly gutted in there, but now there was nearly no trace. Having one good friend balanced the scale weighed down by a hundred enemies, it seems. “Ah! You know some of its true, but it doesn’t matter. All he does is know things, he can’t do anything with what he knows. And besides…” he says rather ominously, “How do you know I didn’t really bewitch you?” He stared at her, gradually dragging his lazy eye up to parallel, already mastering its weirdness. He’s getting inside her head now, for sure. But something was getting inside his too.Like the more she said the past was behind her, the less he believed it. Of course he couldn’t even suggest such a thing. It was bad etiquette to call someone out on their illusions. Yet, he hesitated to agree that obsessing over the wrongs done unto you by others could be beneficial. Could it really hurt less? He studied her back. “Does it?” Those wounds must have hurt so much when they were fresh. “Tea! Oh. Yes,” he’s too happy to change the subject. “Silver Duke blend, if you have it.” Then he quickly added, “Or whatever your favorite is.” Secretly, he hopes she’s run out of silver duke. “You know, now that we have Kyl’oriel’s signature, I only need one more to make it official,” he says as nonchalantly as possible.” If that didn’t tempt her into offering, he’d cast the line further. “It could be from any councilmember or magister, too!” Did she bite? If not, he wasn’t finished. “Why, didn’t you just become a magister? Hmmm…”

Valrae had shook her head at him, a laugh tumbling from her lips. “I know my own mind.” She replies simply, and the conversation moves on. The tea kettle was already on, still waiting patiently by the fire from when she’d made Amorelly a cup. Was that only a handful of moments before? With the motion of her hand it busied itself again, another delicate tea cup floating from her shelves and into Lanlan’s hand. “I’d like to think so,” The witch replies at length. The tea pours itself and it’s the Silver Duke blend he’d asked for. It was pungent and sharp, not particularly one she’d have chosen, but Valrae wasn’t one to judge a man on his choice of teas. “We change what we can and let go of things we cannot.” She shrugs. Her own cup floated into her hand, brimming with lavender tea and just a hint of honey, as she crossed the room. She takes a careful sip as she looks at him. She lets him talk, watching him with a carefully guarded expression as he dances around what they both already knew he was asking. “Perhaps we could convince Karasu?” She offers, smiling slowly behind her cup. “Or maybe we should await Quintessa’s return?” She sets her tea aside on her desk, reaching for her quill. “I suppose you wouldn’t want to wait that long though… Unless, you’re having second thoughts?” Even as she teases, she holds her hand out of the paper. “We could wait, you know. Give a month or three. Perhaps next year?” But she takes the paper and she signs it. “Congratulations, Lanlan.” The witch says, hesitating only a moment before handing it back to him. “May you serve the guild well.”