RP: Theory Crafting On Contemporary Larketian Warfare

Part of the Welcome To The End of Eras Arc

Summary: Quintessa meets with Kasyr to talk shop about Rumiko- as well as Lita's Larketian moonlighting. There's also a bit of maudlin reminiscing, though the pair get distracted by some morbid theory-crafting that may yet lead to some mischief.

Swampy Lowlands

Puddles of muddy water are everywhere, and as you walk the ground sinks beneath your feet. Mosquitoes buzz around your head incessantly, and you must slap a few other insects away from your body as you wander into the swampy domain. The croaking of many breeds of frogs reaches your ears as you continue forward. Other animals peer at you from the shadows, their eyes barely visible through the darkness, and slightly unnerving. The mire becomes impassible from here; your only option is to return back east.

Kasyr, by all accounts, could rightfully be called paranoid, even in better times. Certainly, his need to change the meeting points with Quintessa bordered on obsessive. And yet, the current wartime state of the continent - these measures didn't seem entirely out of place anymore. After all, it would be hard for any faction to discover his movements with such little warning, and doing so in a manner that would be subtle enough to elude either his or the changelings' scrutiny seemed doubtful. Still- he couldn't say the process was pleasant. He was, after all, currently being swarmed by a small array of bloodsuckers that could rival even his appetite. "Calice de putain." His trenchcoat is swept back, faint spatters of mud slopping off the bottom, before it settles anew in one of the myriad puddles nearby. The humidity was disgusting, even if he wasn't as affected by the manner in which the air had grown thick and cloying.

Quintessa doesn’t mind the constant changes of meeting places. Even before the Larketian-Cenrili conflict broke out the changeling was careful about people spying on her, a habit she picked up while digging through other people’s activities. Now, in a wartime setting, Quintessa easily slipped on the illusive attitude, using advanced illusion spells to hide her movements all across the continent. Lately, the strange woman had taken to wielding a new form to save time travelling, existing as a quasi-real black mist that hovered and zoomed through the trees and foliage with ease, finally coming to condense not far from the puddle that had generously gifted the mud on the bottom of Kasyr’s boots. “It’s a good thing nobody pays attention to the swamps and the desert, or else they might notice our dangerous liaisons.” Her voice is soft and teasing as the black mist transforms into something more solid, quickly shifting into the dark-haired changeling in a long, black robe- long enough to drag in the mud, although the way her body levitates a few inches from the ground never actually allows that to happen. “Much more important things to think about, I’d wager.” The tone of her voice is carefully crafted to hide her discontent- not at Kasyr, but at the way the war had been progressing and those that had already been hurt by it. “How are you? Before we get into all the politics I want to check in on you, so… How are you holding up during all this?” Quintessa casually levitates around the Kensai, floating into his direct field of vision as a tiny smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. Despite her personal feelings regarding the war, she was still happy to see him and genuinely concerned with his emotional state.

Kasyrs' nature as an empath means there's a certain disconcerting element to Quintessas' arrival- as her scattered self essentially congeals together in a manner that's harder to ignore. Though, for the sake of the discontent she seems keen on burying- he tries to do just that, focusing instead on a distant thread of irritation, perhaps by some traveller lost a fair distance away. "I think that would require people to pay attention in the first place, Cherie." There's something akin to a smirk, but it slips away the moment she directs her question at him, "I'm holding things together, don't worry." His tongue presses to his cheek, a punctuation of sorts to prevent himself from saying or asking anything further. At least, not until he can redirect the question, "And you? I can't imagine the errands have been easy with- everything. His fingers flex, awkwardly, before they find their way into the pockets of his trousers- a preventative measure for any fidgeting he was tempted to do, "Even beyond the errands, J'suppose. What have you been up to?"

Quintessa || With a twist of her fingers another cloud of the black mist appears and coalesces into a cigarette, already lit, in Quintessa’s mouth, releasing a burst of lavender and clove into the dank smell of the swamps here. “Me?” She almost rolls her eyes at this, her smile spreading as she removes the cigarette from her mouth to exhale a large cloud around them. “I have certain… Irritations I need to address, but other than that my mission isn’t causing me too much grief. Now, our mutual friend Lita on the other hand? She’s got my attention… I don’t suppose you’ve seen her around Vailkrin? I would very much like to speak to her.”

Kasyrs' eyes lazily track the haze of smoke that circles them, even as he registers what she's saying, "Not yet. Has she been profiteering again? Questionable deals on both sides, ou quoi-ce..." No, that wouldn't garner Quintessa's irritation. More likely, it would have elicited amusement, and perhaps some degree of praise at her ambition. "Messed up one of your plans, ou something more personal?" Whatever she was involved in, what were the odds he was going to get tangled up in it? And what would that means insofar as Leoxander? Would this also get misconstrued and laid at the Kensais' feet? To say the swordsman looks irked, would be an understatement. The last thing he needed was Rynvale breathing down his neck.

Quintessa shakes her head, pausing before speaking to take a long drag from her cigarette. “No. She stabbed my mother- So something *very* personal, but I meant it when I said I only want to talk. She’s not mine to kill, not yet.” Quintessa slowly makes another circle around Kasyr, cigarette smoke trailing behind her to make her appear like a foggy spectre as she cautiously surveys the surrounding area, searching for eavesdroppers, each exhale of smoke further repelling the swarming mosquitoes. “Although… Since I’m thinking about it, I am concerned about her scheming- She is maneuvering around each of us, maybe even trying to place a wedge there…” Quintessa hovers close, to lock eyes with Kasyr. “Just the other week she was filling my head with ambitions to usurp you- To take the crown myself and become Queen… And what is this she said about being ‘re-sired’ by you? I must confess, at first, I was hesitant about the idea but in light of recent events… Perhaps a short leash is just the thing for a rabid jackal. Her unpredictable nature is quickly becoming a liability.”

Kasyr snorts, though it's less out of humour, and more incredulousness, "-Why-?" Lita, after all, didn't have close ties to Vailkrin yet, nor any real grudge with the necromancer's gu- "Oh." The answer dawns on him, eliciting a long drawn-out sigh "She's working for Macon, isn't she?" He looks exasperated, which only further intensifies as Quintessa continues to share details, "I have to wonder, really- because potentially putting us on a collision course, even as she'd essentially moor herself to one of us seems... Well, nearsighted would be kind. This seems less like a scheme, and more like- impulsiveness."Here. at least, he manages a proper smirk, "If you find this infuriating, you now know my struggle when you were younger, with no one else doing a damn thing to curb it." That humour is shortlived, replaced instead by a countenance that seems drained, "I do appreciate you talking to me about this. Despite everything." Despite their track record. "I'll figure things out with Lita, because I will not abide her selling out Vailkrin, or any member of the Coterie out of convenience, or on a lark."

Quintessa nods her head, confirming that Lita has indeed taken up arms in support of Larket. “An impulsive schemer is still a schemer, but you are right, she’s doing this to entertain herself rather than gain power or influence.” That’s what Quintessa believes anyhow, that Lita is merely doing this because she enjoys the chaos. “Trust me when I say that I recognize the painful irony of this situation, but it is precisely my past behaviour that makes me sympathetic to Lita and why I find it prudent to curve it while we still can.” Quintessa’s serious expression breaks for a moment as Kasyr voices his appreciation, giving him a smile as she shakes her head. “Of course I’m talking to you about this. The little girl I used to be might be long dead, but her dreams of standing next to you as we lead Vailkrin into a golden age still live on in my heart. I want us to coexist. All of Vailkrin, not just the two of us, and I will not let some thin-blooded outsider like Lita jeopardize this just because she knows how to tug at my heartstrings. She told me the very same night she urged me to plot for the throne that my emotions were holding me back, so I’m taking her advice now.”

Kasyr hadn't said anything to Tessa's acknowledgement of his suspicion, just a slow blink, and a deep inhale. Nor does he really have much of an opinion on Tessa's estimation of Lita. Neither of their theories had been all that charitable, ultimately- and the bottom line remained, caution was the rule of the day. "Co-existence." The words are practically a lament. How many times had he tried now, "I sometimes wonder if I'm deluded for trying. So many iterations. A council of representatives. A regent ... A fae, even - though, she was killed due to a drow outsider, likely at the behest of Tenebrae." There's a laugh, a small bitter chuckle, "Helping Redhale earn freedom for the undead, Equality. But-" It was never enough. It never mattered. "Well. Peut-etre some blame can be lain at my feet, for living them to their own devices. Without me there, or Redhale, perhaps things did become worse. But- I don't think that explains it. Not any of-" It's tiring to talk about, to think of, but he was not so worn as to simply shut down on the changeling. Not when she chose to confide in him, "I want to see that Golden age, too. I just wish I could catch a glimpse of it at the horizon."

Quintessa finds herself frowning somewhat, choosing to nurse her cigarette as Kasyr speaks. “Ginger was a fair administrator over Vailkrin,” She hums along, having no clear recollection if she actually was or not since Quintessa was a child at the time. “I didn’t know it was Tenebrae who gave the order- Had I known I wouldn’t have been so quick to emulate Joliette Thorne in the Necromancer’s Guild…” Quintessa levitates higher, to rest on the branch of an old, knotted tree as she listens. When he starts to lay blame at his own feet, bringing up the fact that Vailkrin was left without a clear leader once Redhale and Kasyr were gone, a complex, twisted emotion bubbles up, causing her to utter the words “You… Abandoned us Kasyr. When you abdicated you took away our symbol. Our promise of order and unity… A little resentment is to be expected, but what the undead have been publishing is simply revisionist. I promise I’ll soon show you the dawn; When I return to Vailkrin I will continue the diplomacy efforts I have been fulfilling abroad, but instead applied to the interior. Perhaps their representative will be more keen to negotiate with me instead of you, especially since I have information regarding a magical object they covet. My investigation into Enchantment has unearthed the location of the Unseelie gang that possesses it, but I have been holding this information to my chest until the right time…” Quintessa adjusts in the branches like a lazy panther, limbs hanging limply over the sides. “Speaking of which, I’ve spotted Rumiko outside of the dark fae encampment… but her mind seemed addled by something. I did not get a chance to speak to her for long but this at least proves she is not being kept prisoner. Queen Lunalesca is certainly up to something, but what I cannot be certain.”

Kasyr wants to look away when Quintessa echoes his own failing, but he keeps his attention on her, all the same. He'd intended to become a symbol, but, it had never really occurred to him how deeply the loss of that very seem icon would affect people when he'd vanished into his own self-imposed exile. "I imagine some, at least, will be amenable to negotiations, and any schism formed is an avenue for peace. Et a means of tracking down the more dangerous parties in play." While he does cant his head slightly at the mention of a magical item, he knows better than to ask further- the absence of the ring he once wore keenly felt. Still, the report is far from over, and once it shifts over to Rumiko, he finds himself speaking up anew, "Addled? I imagine this es more than a case of drinking on the job, if you're mentioning it, Mademoiselle."

Quintessa drifts from the branches like the smoke that was floating around them, seemingly laying on it like a soft bed of pillows. “Well, if I can sway the leadership to our cause that will make rooting out those that cannot be reasoned with a lot easier, I would hope…” Her casually drifting finds her drawing close to Kasyr once again, like a spider slowly lowering herself from the ceiling. “Aye, addled. Now that you mention it she did seem very intoxicated… Though I find it rather curious that she decided to get drunk rather than report that she left Enchantment to me. If she wanted to get drunk she could have done it during the report, it isn’t as if I would frown upon such a thing.”

Kasyr was glad Quintessa was of a like mind with him on the matter. However, whether public opinion would be was something else entirely. Things were unpredictable, and he couldn't help but nurture the poisonous possibility that an outside faction might decide to aid the undead, simply to hinder him. Even despite the overt statements in the paper. "Mmm. Well. We'll have to see how it goes, and adjust accordingly." As for Rumiko, Quintessa isn't the only one curious, "Considering how near and dear the subject seemed to be to her, and how dangerous infiltrating is, I have to wonder if she's been made. Perhaps she'd been plied with something et interrogated." Perhaps one of the more humane tactics that could be done is, "If you can, make contact with her again soon- et try and ascertain what you can. Et whether she's been compromised. It would not do to let her rove, if she's already been marked. At the very least, not without another set of eyes tracking her." And really, that should suffice for the things that needed to be said- but, there was one last detail that still bothered him in all of this. One final question that lingered on his mind, and which had only further risen to the surface at their discussion of a potential golden age was, "What are your thoughts on this war? Et on Cenril et Larket alike?"

Quintessa acknowledges Kasyr’s concerns about Rumiko with a slow, thoughtful nod, already plotting out how she would question the nymph in a way that would not betray that Quintessa was suspicious of her now. “I will speak to her and figure out if she can still be trusted.” Nothing left to say on the matter, she allows the conversation to shift back to the Larketian/Cenril War, her mouth pulling into a flat line when asked what she thought about it. “Well… As we talked about before, it is best I don’t get directly involved but…” She smiles sheepishly, unable to hide that she was perhaps already getting involved in tertiary ways. “Larket has things I need but their attitude and ideology leaves them at odds with my own. How long will I remain a token witch ally to them? With the way this war is going, not long I wager, so I must prepare for the goodwill I have earned with King Macon to soon shrivel up, and in the meantime I must wrap up my interests in the area and take whatever I can on the way out.” She pauses to exhale a cloud of smoke, one that swirls around them as if possessed by disembodied spirits. “As for Cenril? Valrae is valuable to me. Khitti stands in solidarity with them. Most of Lithyrdel sees them as being benevolent aggressors… It would be folly for me to act against them despite having no formal agreements with the Mayor. As much as I wish to see an end to the bloodshed, I can’t help wondering if it would actually be more beneficial for Cenril to win this conflict as opposed to Larket. With Macon knocked down a peg, the trade agreement that he’s so proud of will turn into a lifeline that we can use to strangle them in the post-war shake-up, especially if the young prince replaces his father as a puppet. If Larket wins, however, I will do whatever I can to protect the life of Valrae Baines, but her city I will allow to burn. It has no value to me regardless.” Quintessa pauses to think about what she’s just said, smirking in spite of herself, “Or were you asking what I thought of the moral implications of this conflict? Obviously, this is Jaxson Ravencroft’s fault. We had evidence that Valrae was not being held in Larket and he went off half-cocked anyway and started an international conflict. Larket is in the wrong for escalating it to war, but you can hardly blame them for wanting to retaliate. Sadly this war is a farce- simply an ideological battle against Witchcraft. That’s what I think.”

Kasyr is not surprised by Quintessa's pragmatism in this situation- if only because her collusion with Larket had never aligned philosophically. Still, her assertion as to her own value was somewhat more complex, "I'm not quite sure he'd be as quick to throw you away. I've said it once, and I'll say it before- much of his machinations seem specifically aimed to cause Valrae discomfort. Having witches allied to his cause would only further that, j'pense. That said- I can certainly see the merit on not being on opposing sides with your mother involved." There's a pause, and the Kensai can't help but chuckle, "I did tell you pregnancy wouldn't be enough to keep her out of a conflict." And yet, there's something about her words- 'benevolent aggressors' that sticks with him. "I don't think either side is just, in this. To a certain extent, a longstanding hostility being broken by someone adjacent to a head of state in an act of espionage -does- warrant a war. Et it's not like there was any real effort made to call an emergency forum, or to put effort into halting things. Both sides were simply waiting for an appropriate excuse- et Jaxson provided." The swordsman glances around for a moment, before finally stepping over towards a tree that he can use an as adequate spot to lean up against. "How much do you know about Larket's recent history, par chance? Because there's an underlying problem to all of us that I feel you'll appreciate."

Quintessa feels that her cigarette is nearing the end of its life as it burns hot against her black lips, but she does not react to it. “Perhaps I am valuable to King Macon, perhaps I’m not. It would be extremely easy for him to win my loyalty by offering the hand of his heir to me in betrothal, but neither of us have suggested such a thing. Without a county to call my own I hardly have much to offer in terms of military support, but having me command his troops would have devastating effects on Cenril’s army… So I’ll play it as long as I can. Maybe he won’t throw me away after all.” Quintessa sighs and shakes her head when Khitti’s pregnancy is brought up, “The babies came early, thank the gods, before Lita found it wise to stab her. Trust me, if Khitti was still with child when that happened Lita would not be offered the dignity of a conversation before I came for her head- but yes, with Khitti actively supporting Cenril I cannot align myself against her. I have already brought my mother much grief and I do not need to add another betrayal to the long list I’ve already committed against her.” Quintessa shakes her head again, “Of course, neither side is just. When I think about the human cost of this war… the Cenrili sailors and farmers turned militia… all the children magically aged by Larket’s Curse recruited by the army… Lovers and friends pitted against each other. I do not understand why either side would wish to engage in something that will weaken them both in the long run, but they are thirsty for it. Ready to spill blood at a moment's notice.” Quintessa finds herself visibly deflating, the weight of the situation finally beginning to crush her. Her weightlessness prevails, however, as she levitates over to the tree Kasyr had leaned against. “I know a little,” she confesses, her mismatched eyes widening with curiosity, “I know about the earthquakes Odhranos studied- the fault lines that were used as the justification for genocide against witches. I know about the curse that made all the children in Larket, the prince included, age much quicker than they would have naturally. I know about the rumours of Naga blood-mages creating false copies of the Queen and taking them as their lovers. I know about how drinking the water brainwashes you, and if you stay too long around that object the King wields- the gem that inspires rage, then you will be consumed by it and transformed into a mindless soldier in his army. How much of this is true, I do not know, but I know at the very least that the curse is real. I have seen the aftermath with my own eyes. Which of these is the problem? Or is it something I have yet to even notice?”

Kasyr glances up at Quintessa as she goes through the long list of possibilities, whether they're fact, fiction, or something in between. In a void, it could have almost been dubbed satire- were it only a different continent. "It's the aging curse. That would provide us the best avenue to crush morale on both sides as the war continues, et to potentially de-escalate it. The prince was magically aged, yes- but it occurred to me. . . The prince. He had access to every treatment money could provide, every bit of research the academy could afford, or whatever dank hole Macon was willing to sift through. But what about the common people? There has to be research somewhere that might show the effect it had on the average population, or its upper limits. Likewise, I imagine there are all sorts of useful bits of research scattered about the academy, that might detail just how well they adapted to being magically aged. Because there would have to be a vast gap of knowledge, of the years and lessons they never lived. Which also..." It's an unpleasant rabbit hole he's going down now, once that's a bit too familiar, given his own upbringing, "We should look into the average age of the conscripts, and what sort of 'training' programs they already had available, to see just how early on they were laying the groundwork to train potential troops. Given that Larket has always boasted of being able to field an army, the truth of the matter can only be bleak." There's a pause here, and then he carefully adds, "That said- as much as this information would certainly be damning for Larket, et would no doubt demoralize the population, and even potentially stir dissent- I can't imagine Cenrils' populace would fare much better under the realization of what they were up against. -If- i'm correct, the revelation might prove monstrous enough that we can force an armistice. At least for a number of years. Or until someone deposes one of the leaders."

Quintessa nods her head enthusiastically, apparently taken in by the palace intrigue that surrounded the Larketian royal family. “The aging curse, of course. The most credible of all those claims. You’re right, such a widespread curse would be well documented and studied, most likely by their own Academy of Magics.” Quintessa’s mind is churning now, like the gears of a clockwork rabbit. “If I unearthed enough evidence… I could perhaps prove what I fear, that some of these conscripts are much younger than I was when I was drafted to fight the Razurath… Some might not have even seen their tenth name day, but they look to be fully grown adults…” There is a sickening feeling that comes and goes, replaced by the exuberance of possibly weaponizing this information against them, propagandizing it. “Larket Sends its Babies to Die for the King’s Personal Vendetta.” She utters the headlines, a cruel grin spreading across her face. “If I am to go digging around, I’ll have to be very careful. It is known in Larket that I have not pledged to fight for them and they will be paying closer attention to me, I fear.”

Kasyr is once again reminded of the acute pangs of discomfort that underlie Quintessas' works- echoing her long-ago lament of a childhood stolen from her. A story they shared, really, on several levels though he wasn't too keen on looking at it deeper than he had to. "Peut-etre 'Toy Soldiers: Disposable Youth' ...ou quelque chose." He's not really attached to any of it, and they were putting the cart before the horse, even if all the circumstantial evidence pointed towards their theory being correct. "Whatever the truth may be, it will serve as an adequate means of disrupting the war, et might, perhaps, undermine the enthusiasm of those who would be otherwise keen to spill Larketian blood. Honetement- if we can manage this well, we might be able to cause a problem that will take years to smooth over. Although-" The insular nature of Larkets news was a problem. They did have a decent amount of damage control at their disposal, which meant -properly diffusing that information would be a logistics issue likely addressed with a rebel press established within the limits of the city itself. In other words- likely Syndicate business. But, he'll burn that bridge when he gets there.

Quintessa allows what remained of her cigarette to roll into the center of her palm and evaporate into smoke as green flames conjured by the changeling destroy the evidence that she was here, leaving nothing but the scent of clove and lavender. “I will discover what I can post haste. Once I get the information then we can decide what I do with it. In the meantime, I have my other duties… And if there is nothing else?” If Kasyr had nothing to add she would offer him a goodbye in typical Quintessa fashion, a kiss blown in his direction as her form faded back into the black mist she had arrived as, catching the wind and riding it eastward, an ebon cloud that resembles a swarm of locusts imminently about to devour Larket’s secrets.