Arthuran...

However temporary it was, Verial's pillow was a small sanctuary into which he burrowed his face shutting out any additional light, strands of raven hair falling against the fabric of it. The curtains in his room were drawn and if it had been sunny out, not a shred of light would have been able to filter into the room. Despite it being the season of summer, Arthuran had switched back to blizzard-like weather and outside Verial could hear the wind and snow pushing against the glass of the windows to his room. He could hide from the light, but unfortunately not the noise. It was a small distraction in comparison to all the other things that had been keeping him awake at night - mainly the disappearance of one Deanna DiCorvino.

He missed her by his side, longed for her to be back and for the coldness to be gone. Though he wanted to go after her which would have been easy for him to do so, Verial respected her wishes and instead did nothing. That little reminder he kept to himself did nothing to soothe his anger and disappointment; instead, those emotions just grew and festered. And that was not the last of it. There was a small spot on Verial's chest above his heart which ached with burning. It was the spot where he had taken one of his scales and given it to Deanna. He knew because of the scale that Deanna was well and safe, but there was something terribly wrong about how she was feeling that caused a constant pain in him. Besides her leaving, something was not right and he was convinced Deanna was doing things he'd not approve of while being far away in her silently proclaimed exile from Chaliceton. The obsidian color scale told him as much. This little trinket was the very reason Verial could have simply found her, but the fact that he didn't only added extra fuel to the fire.

Somehow, Verial had been able to close his eyes and at the moment where he imagined being finally able to drift off sleep, there was a knock at his door. He ignored it for about a minute until the sound grew impatient. Verial turned his head from his pillow, lifting away as much as he needed to.

"What?" His voice came out hoarser than he was used to.

"Verial, it's Sedric. You better wake up. There's something going on. Come to the well on the northeast corner of Chaliceton. I'll wait for you there."

Odd colored eyes blinked closed for a few seconds and then reopened. It looked like the possibility of sleep would have to wait once more.


It was early morning, at least as far as Verial could tell. The skies were dark gray, overcast and continuous snow fell from clouds that were heavy with it. The sun was hiding as it had been for the last few days. For Verial, the actual sense of time around Arthuran had become a blur lately. His days consisted of one frigid day after another and his nights, one bad dream after another. Sedric's calling, the reason he has brought Verial to the well on the far northeastern edge of Chaliceton, was just another miserable event to add to the list.

Despite his excelled hearing, Verial found himself tuning out the sound of mournful crying nearby. He attempted to not let the woman's sobbing affect him, which was easy for him to do these days. Sedric stepped away from the edge of the stone well and around the tearful, shaking woman to meet him. There were about five other members of Chaliceton's guard present including Francis Vanelo. The guard, at seeing Verial's approach, gave him a look with narrowed eyebrows. Verial ignored it.

Ever since the news and rumors of "Lady Amelia's" departure swept across the town, Francis had been quite livid with Verial, fuming even, in the same manner as Deanna's horse. Verial would not give any reasons or answers as to her departure nor did he think he owed anyone explanation. Truthfully, he wasn't sure the exact reasons why she had left, just that a lot of it had to do with a baby - his baby - growing in her womb. Verial assumed Francis' anger stemmed from something to do with the kiss on the cheek Deanna had given Francis or maybe he was unhappy that as a guard of the watch, he did not see her going off in the early morning or night, whenever she had left. Either way, Verial didn't care and decided ignoring Francis' occasional and pointed looks was the best course of action.

"Come this way, Lord Verial," Sedric said breaking him out of his thoughts. Verial nodded and followed Sedric to the well where the two men peered over into the edge of it.

Sedric held a lantern over the well to give Verial more light. The well was about twenty feet deep and at the bottom of the well floating in six feet of water was a young boy no more than seven years old. The boy was lifeless and unmoving and Verial had no idea how long he had been dead at the bottom of the well, but he assumed it was for quite some time. The child was thinner than anyone Verial had ever seen and his skin was hued with blue, black and white color, the entirety of his body being pale from being down in the well. Verial wasn't sure, but he thought he saw where the skin was blackened that it had started to decay and chunks of flesh were missing, though frozen over to no longer let any blood escape. His eyes were open, glazed over and frosted. Despite the vacant appearance in those dead orbs, Verial had the feeling of being watched and he was sure by the way Sedric stood, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to another, that the Captain of Chaliceton's Guard felt the same way.

"What happened here?" Verial finally asked noticing cubes of ice had also formed of the dead boy's body over time. "How long has he been down here?"

"A day or so." Verial looked at Sedric, an eyebrow arched in disbelief and question. "It's true, or so his mother says that's when he vanished." Sedric nodded his head back to the woman who had tears frozen to her cheeks now.

"How is that possible? It takes a while to get in a condition like this," Verial said gesturing with a hand over the well.

"Well, it has been unusually cold lately, but even so, strange things have been happening throughout all of Aleris recently. Did you read in The Chronicle about the girl who lived in Grand City, Elra Minrae?"

"Yes."

"Same thing. The boy here, his name was Derrik, stopped eating and became unresponsive. I couldn't heal him. The other healers couldn't either. Then in the still of the night, after several weeks of withering away, the boy just got up. He didn't fall in the well; apparently he walked into it."

"No one saw him go?"

Sedric almost seemed ashamed or embarrassed at his next words. "No. Damn kid was so pale by then he blended in with the snow. Arthuran camouflaged him. Walked right on by like some sort of ghost."

"Alright, well let's get the boy out of there. Make sure he has a proper burial," Verial said. With a pause, he took one last look over the well as if searching for something else beside the deceased floating child. "Sedric, seal up this well and make sure no one's using water from it. Likely, it's contaminated now. I also want you to see if we can round up some of our mages and test some of our other wells... In the meantime, we can get together a group of men and head out into the fields. While there's snow out, let's gather it and melt it down so Chaliceton has pure water to drink. I don't want to take any chances here."

Verial took a step back as the other members of the guard circled the well and constructed a system of ropes to pull the child from the well. Sedric stepped in line beside him as the boy was hoisted upwards and Francis stood by the woman's side as she waited vigilantly until her son was free from the murky frozen depths of the well. Everything had been operating smoothly, despite the grim task, until the boy was being gently pulled by gloved hands over the rim of the well. The child was heavier than the men expected, having been partially laden down with ice. Their grasps slipped and the boy fell away from the edge of the well, sliding to the ground before anyone could think to do anything. And when the boy hit the ground in those two seconds that seemed to last an eternity, an unexpected thing happened.

His head and leg broke clean from his body, the child snapping as if he were no more than a frail twig. The head rolled only any inch or two on the ground, open eyes staring at his mother and the soldiers. The mother let out a terrible wailing sound, horrified and shaken at what had transpired. Verial had been trying to block out her tears earlier, but this new sound cracked any concentration he previously had.

Verial resisted the urge to smack a hand against his forehead as the guards stood dumfounded, unknowing what to do with the boy now. Verial gritted his teeth together, hiding an annoyed growl in his throat. The mother collapsed, shaking and sobbing into the snow. When Verial could manage a somewhat calm voice, he spoke, turning his direction to the guards.

"Pick him up - gently - and head back to Chaliceton to prepare for the boy's burial. Stop standing around." Verial's attention was then turned to Francis who was standing quietly by as the others worked to quickly move the broken body. "Francis, since you are so inclined to stand there, do something with her. For Gods' sakes, take her back to the town. This is no place for her to be."

Francis lowered his head at being scolded and even though he mumbled his response into the wind, Verial could hear it. "Lord Verial can't take care of another woman, yet again?"

"I suspect you don't want me to answer that little question of yours, Francis," Verial said shooting the Chaliceton watch guard a dangerous look. Francis pulled his head away from the snow-filled ground to meet Verial's odd colored eyes, his own face marked with surprise and confusion. "Yes, I heard you. And if you ask me a question like that again, you will find yourself walking away from Chaliceton's gates."

"Yes, Lord Verial," Francis said swallowing thickly, though Verial could tell he was trying to maintain his anger.

After Francis had left with the boy's mother and the guards headed back with the boy, Sedric turned to Verial and sighed. Though he tried for a small smile, Sedric could not manage it.

"I told Lady Amelia that kiss on his cheek would inflate his ego."

"Well unfortunately, she does what she wants," Verial said not directly looking at Sedric and not realizing how true his words were just then. Several silent minutes passed between them before Verial turned back to Sedric and nodded his head in the direction of Chaliceton. "Let's go see what we can do about the wells and collecting fresh water. Maybe if we have any luck left, it'll continue to snow."

Layla Victoire’s frowned deepened with each step she took. The diminutive leader’s hands were clasped tightly behind her back as grey orbs took in the sight of the three dead young women, prostitutes who worked at the brothel Hedonism. All three were barely out of their teens. All three were naked,thin and gaunt as if starved for some time, their skeletons visible against tightly pulled flesh. All three were pulled out of the waters of the Port. The docks she paced upon were slippery with ocean spray and fish guts, and the Lady of Bariston was careful not to slip and fall.

“Has anyone spoken to their...caretaker?” Layla shuddered to say the word ‘Madam’, as she questioned Captain Miles Andrew Long. Miles tiredly rubbed at his normally smooth jaw line that was sprouting at least a day’s growth. His Lady had been packed and prepared to leave hours before, but the recent discovery of the three cold, grey and very dead women had changed matters and delayed Layla’s departure to Arthuran.

“Aye, Lady Victoire. Sophie, I believe her name is. Two of the locals found all three floating near the docks and recognized the women. One ran to tell Madam Sophie, and the other fished the ladies out before contacting us. She is beside herself with grief, Sophie, that is.” Miles sighed then and shook his head. “Rumor has it one of them is her daughter, my Lady. Not sure which one but…,” he shrugged. “In any case, there’s no sign of struggle or any indication they were attacked or murdered. Either all three stripped naked, went for a swim and drowned by accident...or…,” Miles trailed off, figuring his Lady was intelligent enough to figure out the rest.

“Or they committed some bizarre suicide,” Layla finished with a puzzled look. “But why? Was their life in Hedonism so horrible they would take their own lives?” Disgusted by the whole scene, Layla ordered two accompanying guards to wrap the girls in the linens provided and have their bodies removed from the dockside. As it was a rather large crowd of spectators had grown. “Send your men to investigate, Captain. I want to know if these girls were abused, on some sort of mind-altering drugs, or what have you. I want some reasonable explanation for this,” she gestured with a sweep of her hand to the wrapped bodies. “If this was a suicide I want to know why. Whores or not, they were people, and people simply do not kill themselves for no reason.”

Miles nodded brusquely. “Of course, my Lady. I am sorry to have troubled you with such matters prior to your departure, and I swear you will not be delayed a moment longer. While you are gone, I will get to the bottom of this, I promise.” Miles saw the relief in Layla’s eyes. Bariston was just starting to get back on its feet in regards to livelihood, trade, and tourism, and he knew that this sort of unsavory scandal caused Layla concern. No one wanted the capital city to thrive more than his lady, and Captain Long was fully aware she fretted over Bariston and the people as if they were her own children.

“Come now, Lady Victoire. The airship awaits to take you to Hinewai Harbor and from there a ship will sail you to Arthuran. Arrangements will be made to take you to Chaliceton, where I am sure Lord Verial with greet your unannounced arrival with open arms,” Miles smiled a little, trying to put Layla’s mind to ease and lessen the already tense situation. It seemed to work as Layla’s smile appeared briefly. “I do hate to leave Bariston now though, Captain. If a problem should present itself-”

“Then I shall handle it in your absence, my Lady.” Miles interjected smoothly. “Fear not. I will not let you down.” Layla squeezed his shoulder and nodded, having full confidence Miles could handle matters in her stead for a week or so.

“Let’s not keep Lord Verial waiting then.”

***

Miles waited until the airship was out of sight, carrying his Lady, Neera and ten of Bariston's guardsmen, and the bodies were brought to the hospital before making his way toward Bariston’s dungeons. Several flights of stairs later, the young Captain came upon a row of cells reserved for those who would never receive a pardon, never see the light of day. He could hear the animalistic sounds and jerking of chains coming from within the cells. Captain Ambrose Pennington was there and Miles swore the elder man had seemed to age years in the span of a few weeks. Miles knew why and felt the same way. It wasn’t easy keeping something of this severity a secret from their Lady, but somehow Ambrose and Miles had managed to do so.

“Has Layla left yet?”

Miles nodded and noted the bolted crossbow held firmly in the other man’s hands. “Indeed. Our gracious Lady was made aware of the whores by sheer accident. She happened to be nearby when one of the sentries found me and stupidly announced it. He will be reprimanded for his loose tongue, I assure you.” Ambrose grunted and spat in annoyance before sighing. “She’ll find out sooner or later, but her mind has been so preoccupied lately with the reconstruction and her obsession with Akilara and the woman, I figured it would buy us some time to figure things out.”

Ambrose had his spies everywhere and that included Eiler, specifically the Grand City. When word came to him regarding the suicides, the aging Captain thought nothing of it...until it began in his own Bariston. The three young prostitutes were not the first of unexplained deaths in the capital city. There had been four more prior to them that had been kept quiet from Layla Victoire. Not an easy feat, but something that had been accomplished nonetheless until further investigations could take place. The strange cases of death did not concern Ambrose so much as what..or rather whom...resided behind the cell doors.

Ten citizens of South Bariston continued to howl behind locked doors. Six men, three women, and one young boy in iron chains secured to sturdy concrete. Something had gone terribly wrong in the town to the south. Some sort of sickness had set in. Some form of madness. Ambrose had quietly informed a squadron and sent them to South Bariston to observe, report, and if need be relocate the infected to the capital. Discretion was key until healers and men of science could be ushered in to discover the cause, with all to report back to either Miles or Ambrose. Not even the priest or his lady wife would have such knowledge. Healers began to believe South Bariston to be cursed, but Ambrose wasn’t so stupid to realize there was something far more troubling brewing. Something that needed to be remedied immediately.

Soldiers began noticing those who displayed symptoms of what they deemed ‘The Madness’ in several of the citizens there. Uncontrollable fits of rage, incoherence in thought and speech, frothing at the mouth. The list went on and on. Those who were able to, were taken under custody and brought back to the capital for study. The rest...well, Ambrose had commanded his guard to handle those as they saw fit. All in all, thirty South Bariston citizens had been murdered with hopes to prevent the spreading of whatever disease they carried. All was kept under the radar of their watchful and all knowing Lady.

The ten that remained locked away showed no signs of improvements and frankly the very best of healers couldn’t get close enough to attempt a cure. As it was, two healers had been attacked and bitten by the boy whom they tried to help first. Ambrose had the women healers quarantined for the moment, but knew it would be only a matter of time before ‘The Madness’ set in for them as well. Both captains felt it better to eliminate the few to save the masses, hoping that the sickness would eventually die out enough, and all would resume to normal.

“I had a hound once when I was a small boy, Miles. A beautiful hunting bitch. My father trained her well and she was beloved by our family,” Ambrose began quietly as he reached for the keys to unlock the first cell, and Miles had to strain to hear him amongst the shrieks and shouts of the imprisoned. “One day my father took her out in search for quail, and the hound came across some small creature, a raccoon perhaps or a weasel. I don’t recall. In any case, the foul creature attacked our hound and bit her on the forearm. My father shot the little bastard before it could damage the hound further and brought her back to our home so he could clean the wound.” Ambrose entered the cell and calmly ignored the three women and the boy, their eyes wild with rage. Spittle flowed under their gags which did nothing to prevent their screams. They thrashed wildly like animals against their chains, fingers curled into claws as they tried in vain to reach for both captains.

“A week or so went by and my father began noticing a change in the hound. She began acting queerly, biting at her own fur, snarling at all who came near her. In the end, he had to cage her as her condition was worsening.” Ambrose sighed heavily as he stood a few feet before the boy, out of reach from the child’s frantic grasp. “It was with a heavy heart he announced that she would never be well again, and in fact was concerned she would harm me, my mother, our neighbors, etc. I remember how I cried knowing what he would do to her, but it was a kindness you see. She was suffering. He knew that. I knew that. He did was what necessary to preserve his family.”

Miles was quiet as he listened to Ambrose’s somber tale, nodding finally as he withdrew his pistol and stood before one of the women. “They are suffering Captain. There is nothing we can do for them.” This was the truth, but it did nothing to lessen the guilt and pain that weighed in his heart knowing they were about to commit murder. Necessary murder to save the masses, to keep their Lady safe when she returned. Ambrose and Miles would bloody their hands so Layla Victoire would not have to compromise herself.

“A kindness, Miles.” Captain Ambrose Pennington levelled his crossbow at the boy’s heart. “Forgive me son.”

The screams of the women and the child died as they were put down, just as the hound had been, before both men left the cell and moved onto the next. It was not long before the lower level of the dungeon was quiet once more. Ambrose and Miles had ordered for the bodies to be burned, knowing more would be sent in for elimination.

Both men could only pray that whatever insanity had affected Elved and Eiler had not found its way to the frozen wasteland of Arthuran where their beloved Lady was heading, and if so, that Verial Akilara would find a way to keep her safe.

As if reading his mind, Miles asked Ambrose, “There have been no reports of anything strange in Arthuran, but if so...do you think he will protect her?” Captain Pennington’s faded blue eyes went dark as he stripped the leather gloves from his hands. “Lord Verial had best keep our Lady safe. If not…

...then we put him down. Permanently.”

The trip from Bariston to Hinewai Harbor by airship, followed by another few days at sea to Arthuran was long and arduous. Lady Layla Victoire had never been so relieved to step foot on the frozen wasteland Verial Akilara called home as she was the second their ship set anchor not far offshore. Smaller boats carried the Lady of Elved, her handmaiden, and select few guardsmen to shore. Nearby was a depot where both crew and passengers would be able to rest for a spell and enjoy a hot meal before making their way behind the building where sled dogs would take them the rest of their journey into Chaliceton. Travelling by foot was not impossible, but preferred during warmer months when it was safer.

Layla had hoped for a hot bath at the depot, and perhaps a bed to lay her head upon for the night, but the storehouse was mainly used for military personnel and as such there was not true accommodations for the lady. The trek from the depot to Chaliceton via sled would take at least a full day’s journey, much to Layla’s chagrin. Snow fell in heavy wet blankets from the overcast sky, which was almost tolerable, but the winds had picked up once they began their travels causing Layla to shiver despite the warm furs she was draped in from head to toe.

Young Neera was feeling the freezing conditions as well, and the two women huddled together as the malamutes raced across the snow covered landscape. After an hour or so, Layla began to feel drowsy and with heavy lidded grey eyes, glanced at Neera (who was already snoring softly), followed by two more teams carrying her guards and belongings. Layla smiled a bit, noting with pride that each Bariston guardsmen was awake and alert as they kept a watchful eye over their lady in the sled, who finally let her weary body sag against Neera so that she might sleep the rest of the way to Chaliceton.

Layla was jerked awake when the dogsled team finally came to an abrupt halt at the outer gates of Chaliceton. Rubbing sleep from her eyes, the Lady of Bariston stood and stretched aching back and leg muscles while two of her guard met with whom Layla assumed was the Captain of Chaliceton’s guard and a small group of soldiers who wore hardened expressions, weapons readied at the sight of the unannounced and unidentified arrivals. Such the display caused Layla to smile a bit as she and Neera both left the sled to make their way toward both groups of soldiers. For some reason, it pleased the Lady of Bariston to see Verial’s men assembled so quickly and effectively to protect their Lord from any potential threats.

Layla had purposefully commanded her guard to travel inconspicuously without the colors or banners of Bariston so that she could travel without word being carried back to Verial Akilara. Deciding to end the charade, Layla stood before the Captain and lowered the thickly furred hood of her ermine coat she wore. Even with chapped and reddened cheeks from the frosty air, Sedric’s soft brown eyes widened at the sight of the unmistakable sight of Layla Victoire in all of her loveliness.

"Lady Victoire!” Captain Sedric bowed quickly to the diminutive blonde woman, one gloved hand waving to his men to lower their weapons, and in doing so Chalicton’s guardsmen followed their Captain’s lead as twenty men dipped their heads in greeting to Bariston’s leader. When Sedric straightened, he frowned in confusion. "My lady, forgive me but...we did not receive word of your impending arrival, if there indeed was one?”

Layla’s smile widened a fraction as she could clearly see the Captain’s discomfort. How best to inform his lord that the very woman who demanded his head on a platter, who had a hand in his exile of sorts to Arthuran and the unjustified whipping he received upon said arrival, who had her own men hunting the very woman he risked all for, was here in the flesh without warning? Layla patted the captain’s arm and said gently in that melodic voice of hers, “Dangerous times, Captain, call for such secrecy, I am afraid. Hence why no word was sent. Forgive me, but I am sure you and the Lord Verial can understand why I chose to travel in obscurity. My reasoning for being here is simply to make peace with the Lord with perhaps the future intent of becoming allies. Nothing more, I assure you.”

Sedric glanced at the Bariston party which surprisingly consisted of only a handful of Bariston guardsmen, their personal belongings, one handmaiden, and the Lady herself. He surmised that if Layla Victoire’s intent here was to bring danger to Lord Verial, she was clearly outnumbered and therefore her words must be true. Still, he doubted his Lord would be pleased with the admittance of the Lady of Bariston and crew, and was considering politely declining invitation into the town and eventually manor, when he heard a distinctive feminine gasp from behind him. Sedric turned to discover Lady Sahar standing there, nearly drowning in furs, her mouth agape. Honey colored eyes widened to near impossibility as the magae stood frozen in spot, staring in astonishment at her former mistress and friend.

“Gods be damned! As if we didn't have enough-!” The healer swore as she cut her words off and marched forward purposefully to stand beside Sedric, the initial shock wearing off as Sahar’s normally soft features hardened at the sight of Layla. “Lady Victoire,” Sahar’s words were as cold as the day. “To what does my Lord and the people of Chaliceton, myself included, owe this unexpected and unwanted visit of yours?”

Layla lowered her head and sighed, fully expecting resistance and doubt from Sahar, but not such open hostility. A pang of sadness shot through her, but the Lady of Bariston hid her hurt as best as possible. Lifting her gaze to meet Sahar’s, Layla clasped her gloved hands before her and said quietly, “Hello Sahar. It has been some time,” Layla chose not to acknowledge Sahar’s harsh greeting. “I am here to see Verial, old friend. I am here to make amends and hope that eventually he and I can come to speaking terms. I do not expect you or Verial to welcome me with open arms, but I do believe I taught you better manners than to have guests, invited or not, wait out in the cold before deciding if their intentions are honorable, Sahar.” The chastisement was uttered as kindly as possible with a gentle smile to ease the sting of her words.

After a moment, a more subdued Sahar nodded in agreeance. “You did, Layla.” Sahar glanced at Neera who was absorbing each word and act like a sponge, and the Bariston guard who remained silent but ever ready to defend their Lady against any hostile acts. “Very well, Lady Victoire. If you and yours will accompany us back to Northsea, I shall inform the Lord that you are here. I am sure he will be...thrilled.” The desert beauty smirked some before turning on her heel to briskly walk toward the manor. Captain Sedric followed with half of his men, leaving Layla and her own to trail behind with the remainder of Chaliceton guards to flank them.

A flutter of nervous anticipation went through Layla’s stomach as they entered the main hall of Northsea where in but moments, she would come face to face with Verial Akilara for the first times in nigh a year. Sahar instructed Layla to wait in the solar while the rest were welcome to refreshments in the dining hall, as she went to find Verial to announce his ‘guest’.

Layla removed her outerwear and placed it neatly on a side table as she stood near the fireplace, grateful for the warmth the fire gave off. Layla had successfully been welcomed, so to speak, in Verial’s home. The next few minutes would determine if she would be welcomed back into his life. Or so she hoped.

"Why does it smell so goddamn awful?"

To answer Verial's question, Francis first looked up with a scowl marring his youthful face. After a few seconds of hesitation, he decided to give Verial an answer, perhaps priding on the fact that he knew something Verial did not. With a sweep of his hand, Francis gestured to the number of battered and dead orcan and goblins that were now sprawled across one of Arthuran's barren snow fields. Their blood soaked the snow covered ground, but the crimson liquid that stained the earth did not solely belong to the beastial tribe that dared to rush towards Chaliceton. Verial and some of his men were not without their own casualties.

"Lore states that they originated from the Shadow Marshes, that their blood is made from the filth and evil that lurks there and that they were not born from any creature, but that they mutated and surfaced with insatiable bloodlust."

"In other words, they are made up from the shit of that swamp?"

Francis sighed. "That is one way to put it, M'Lord."

"Don't sigh so much, Francis. You are alive, are you not?"

After the incident at the well, Verial had taken a group of the militia to one of the snowfields southeast of Chaliceton to gather water. He had sent Sedric back to Arthuran's capital city with a sample of the well water for one of their few mages to test for contamination. Verial was sure the water had been poisoned because of the decaying boy, but beyond that, he was not certain yet if there was something else in Chaliceton's water. For that reason, he took twenty men, all carrying as many buckets as they could out into the snowfields. However, two hours or so into their task of gathering freshly fallen snow into buckets, they found themselves not alone.

It had been months since Verial had heard any news about the orcs and goblins that lurked in the Oblivion Mountains. He had almost thought they had given up and died of hunger. After all, their only ways of entering Chaliceton were from across a narrow patch of ocean or over the Eternal Lake. Neither method had proved successful in the past, but this time, they had somehow made it. Verial was guessing they had braved walking across the Eternal Lake finally. No. Bravery was not actually they correct word.

They had come with fifty in number to Verial's twenty men. There was hunger in their golden and lime colored eyes, but also something else. Fury and rage. Verial was not entirely clueless to the habits of orcs and goblins. He knew they were ruthless in nature, but they were driven by another invisible force this time and that force fueled the beasts to charge without second thoughts. They ran towards the Chaliceton guard armed with whatever crude weaponry - axes and swords mainly - that they had dug out of the mountains. In their greed and hunger though, they were often careless. Thankfully, this gave the men of Chaliceton a bit of an upper hand.

Though all the orcs and goblins had eventually been slain, they were not without their own casualties. Four of Verial's twenty men had fallen and twelve had been injured. Francis was bleeding from a deep wound on his forearm. Verial was sure he had a broken rib and was developing a large bruise on the size of his jaw from where he had been punched by possibly the biggest fist he had ever seen. All of the guard was almost completely covered in mud and dark rust-colored blood from the orcs and goblins. Verial was no exception to this. His hair was now matted with the filth and as he tried to run his fingers through his once raven hued hair, they became stuck instead. Verial withdrew his hand.

"Let's get back home," Verial said lifting his voice above the men who were still trying to catch their breath. "We'll gather up the dead and the snow we've collected. Any of you that have been wounded, please make sure you head to the hospital right away upon return." Verial then turned back to Francis. "You can bet Sahar and Sedric are going to have their hands full tonight."

All Francis could manage was a groan in response. Verial said nothing as he was used to Francis' disapproving grunts and sighs by now. Instead, he looked heavenward to the gray sky and to the falling snow and hoped - prayed - that the storms would continue on. Something nagged at Verial. He wasn't quite sure what the feeling was, but he was certain they'd have to collect more snow soon enough and he did not want those harvests to consist of any additional threats.


Upon their arrival back home, there was no mistaking the look of confusion on Sedric's face. He stood at Chaliceton's gate as Verial and the small group of Chaliceton guard returned with buckets of snow, dead bodies and looking down right battered and as if they had been rolling around in mud. The Chaliceton guard captain absorbed all of these details in ten seconds before he was jumping into action and running to meet Verial, a handful of the rest of the guard flanking him.

"By the gods," Sedric said as he met Verial, "what the hell happened out there?"

"Attacked," Verial said, "by those orcs and goblins. Somehow they got across. There was about fifty of them and I'm not so positive they won't try it again."

As Verial answered, he lifted his hand and waved some of his men in the direction of the hospital. They looked relieved to get medical attention and did not wait for a second invitation as they trudged onward towards the hospital leaving their buckets and the dead behind. Verial stayed to speak with Sedric and he could also see out of the corner of his odd colored eyes that a sizeable group of people were gathering with shocked expressions to see what had happened. Some, possibly relatives of the four fallen men, had run forward, already spilling tears over those who had been lost.

"I'll be damned," Sedric said placing a hand under his chin in thought. "I always suspected them to be too stupid to ever make it."

"Yes well, I believe there was something else involved in their conquest this time. In any case, we need to get this snow inside and melt it down - store it somewhere that it isn't going to be tainted by anything. Also, we have quite a few men who were injured in the fight," Verial said nodding after the group who headed to the hospital. "Sedric, think you can see to this and make sure no one else dies? Assign whoever else you need to do work. We'll have to tighten up the watch tonight, maybe even close the gates around Chaliceton. I'll go get Sahar to see if she can come help you out with the healing."

"Erm, M'Lord," Sedric began, "Lady Sahar... well she is currently awaiting you in Northsea Manor attempting to deal with a situation." A brow lifted across Verial's forehead in question. Sedric cleared his throat and swallowed thickly. "Layla Victoire is here with Neera and a few members of the Bariston guard. They are in the manor."

"Perfect," Verial said. "Looks like that bath I was going to take will have to wait and for good reason."

Without another word, Verial moved onward letting Sedric get the task of the snow, the wounded and tightening their defenses. The walk to Northsea Manor was not far from Chaliceton's main gates but it seemed to take much longer as Verial thought of all the reasons why Layla could be here to see him. Unfortunately, he could only bring himself to believe that she was only present in Arthuran's main city for her own benefit, either to see to his downfall somehow or to hunt and capture Deanna to finally get her revenge, which unfortunately for Layla was not in the cards right now.

This very thought, that Bariston's vengeful leader had come all the way just to seek justice and retribution - to spill some blood - made Verial's jaw tighten momentarily in response. He had been angered and felt slightly betrayed at the way Deanna had left him, however, her departure was some relief to him currently. At least Layla would not have the satisfaction of uncovering Deanna and his unborn child; at least there would be no blood spilled whether from Layla or Deanna. If there was one thing that made Verial's scowl turn into a slight smirk, it was the fact that Layla would be disappointed she had travelled all this way for nothing.

As he stepped into the manor, Sahar was waiting in the main entrance hall her hands laced before her as if to stop them from shaking. But at the sight of him, covered in mud and dark, blackish blood, her hands fell to her sides and her lips dropped open. It appeared as if she had wanted to say something a few times in those seconds that passed between them but Verial lifted up his hand and spoke before her.

"I know already. Sedric told me. Darling Lady Bariston has arrived," Verial said. "In comparison, this is going to make that fight back there seem like a walk through a flower field on a sunny day. Tell me, where is my dear old friend that I might greet her?"

"Verial," Sahar finally said letting out a breath, one he could not tell if it was caused by frustration or disbelief. "She is waiting in the solar. Gods, you smell something awful, I am sorry to say. Would you not care for a bath first? What happened?"

"Orc and goblin attack. Speaking of which, would you mind giving Sedric a hand at the hospital? And no, I'd rather meet her at my very best," Verial said giving Sahar a knowing smile.

As he turned to leave and make way to the Solar, Verial was certain he saw Sahar crack a small grin in return, but she said nothing else as she moved to bundle up and go to the hospital. When Verial reached the end of the hall where the solar was, a few of the Bariston guards stood outside the room and looked alert to see Verial striding up, looking quite the threat as dirty as he was, his bloodied sword resting against his hip.

"Verial Akilara, you will disarm yourself before you greet our Lady," one of the guards said.

"You'll not tell me what to do in my own home. Now get out of the way. I'd be more than happy to add a collection of arrogant Bariston guards to our recently deceased," Verial said his brows narrowing as he pushed past the two guards who despite their tone and command earlier, did not do a thing.

Verial opened up the solar's door and closed it behind him with a bang that was louder than he had intended. However, it had the effect he wanted. Layla, who had been standing by the fireplace warming up, jumped slightly in response and turned to see him, probably not how she had expected to see him or remembered him. He was, of course, covered from nearly head to toe in dirt and blood, but he also had acquired a few differences in his appearance since he last saw Layla, namely a scar Deanna had given him above his eye and the facial hair that was growing where he usually kept himself clean shaven.

"What do you want, Layla? I have twenty or more problems right now and if you're trying to add yourself to the list, I'll make sure you're crossed off of it really quickly."

It had seemed eons since she last saw him. A small sharp intake of breath was heard through Layla Victoire's clenched teeth in response to not only Verial's rude (but not unexpectedly so) greeting, as well as his unkempt and rather filthy appearance. Storm grey orbs took in the Lord of Arthuran from head to toe, and she privately admitted to herself that even covered in muck and blood, grim expression and all, Verial still managed to carry himself with an air of authority and leadership. Being the gracious woman she was, and a lady to the 't', Layla promptly ignored his insults and threats. She wisely did not comment upon his appearance, though she was rather startled at first to see him in such a way.

The diminutive blonde woman remained silent for some time before finally letting out a breath, a sense of determination lighting up her eyes as if finally coming to some conclusion she had been debating upon. Without a single word directed to Verial, Layla strode past him and out of the solar where her guardsmen awaited her. Having left the door open, Verial would witness the Lady of Bariston stop short before them, her posture steely, her voice rising as she spoke to her men.

"Bariston born! My elite soldiers! What is the motto that each and every one of you live and die by?"

In unison, the guards shouted with great pride evident in their voices...

"A man who refuses a duty ... is not punished ... but forsaken. And he will never know love or honor or happiness again!"

Layla nodded, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "Indeed. Lord Verial has been kind and gracious enough to allow us welcome in his lands and his home. We shall show him our gratitude, Bariston born, and in doing so, you shall honor him, me and yourselves." Glancing over her shoulder at Verial, she returned to face her men, her features grave. "It would appear that our good Lord has had...troubles...as of late. I ask of you, my men, to give him your quick minds, your courage, your sword arms. I ask of you that you join with his men, my loyal and brave warriors, putting aside whatever differences or reservations you might have. I ask that you follow the commands of his Captain in doing whatever is necessary to maintain order again, to give peace to our Lord and his lands. I ask that you do this in my name, in the name of Bariston, your duty."

Her men shouted their compliance and with a satisfied nod, Layla thanked them and turned to one of her own, murmuring something in his ear. The soldier nodded and left quickly as Layla returned to within the solar where Verial stood, but did not acknowledge him just yet. Within moments, Neera entered holding a pistol and leather whip along with a weapons belt before departing the solar, her brows raised at her lady in silent question.

Layla still wore the clothes she had traveled in, and though longing for hot bath and something more presentable to wear, she pushed such wants aside as she secured her belt in place along with the weapons. Finally, brushing a lock of hair from her forehead, the Lady of Bariston speared Verial with a look. "You do not want me here. I understand that, but the fact is I am here, Verial whether you want me here or not. I have my reasons for coming, but from the looks of you, my reasons can wait. You say you have troubles? Well my Lord, do not fear I am here to add to your burdens." Layla smiled some at Verial as she made her way toward him and blotted a spot of blood from the corner of his eye. "Now stop staring at me like I've sprouted horns and tell me what I can do to help you."

Verial was, for a moment, surprised when Layla did not respond and instead strode by him and towards the door of the solar. When she opened the door, Verial hoped he had offended her enough that she was actually leaving, but then he recalled how stubborn and adamant Layla was. What she did was address her Bariston guards with such a believing and riveting speech that it had Verial placing his hand, palm first, over his face. He closed his odd colored eyes and sighed into his hand as Layla had her men address their Bariston oath and as she put on this display of honor and duty.

At least, Verial thought to himself, I managed to not laugh out loud. That is something.

Once Verial's hand had left its resting place on his face, he opened his eyes to find Neera was bringing Layla her weaponry. Although he may have appeared disinterested and sarcastic in his mannerisms towards Layla's show, he had listened to all of it. Every single word of her preaching as if she was getting ready to go off to battle and happily die for the city of Chaliceton. And although she probably knew that Verial didn't believe a single, solitary word of it, she studied him with a serious look that meant she was here to take care of business, no matter what it was.

Before he could even get a word out, Layla spoke first, letting him know that indeed she was here for other matters, but that those would have to wait. Assisting in his problems and helping Chaliceton by protecting it would come first. Then after that, once everything was fine and dandy, Layla would let loose to whatever it was she originally came here, which Verial had an idea it had something to do with Deanna. However, all of these thoughts were dismissed when Layla reached up and... tenderly wiped away a spot of blood from the corner of his green colored eye, the eye that had a scar above its eyebrow.

He stood stock still, not knowing what to do, as if he had been burned but could not manage to cry out in pain. Finally, he took a step back and shook his head at Layla nodding to her weapons that hung at her belt.

"There's no need for that. Not now anyway. We were attacked by a maniacal tribe of goblins and orcs a few miles from here. They seemed... frenzied, is one way to put it. In any case, they have been driven away temporarily and the city is already under heavy guard and watch, so there's no need to go rush off and hunt them down," Verial said. "If they come back and head towards Chaliceton, you'll be one of the first to know."

Again, Verial's eyes drifted towards Layla's hip where her weapons waited to be used. He paused for a beat or two before speaking, and then cleared his throat.

"Whip and pistol, huh?"

Fitting, Verial thought.

If Layla had managed to say something in response though, Verial did not hear it. Out of nowhere, the sound of a monstrous roar could be heard. At first, it was off in the distance, but then the sound became more pronounced as if the creature or whatever was making the noise, was right by him. Verial winched, his hands wrapping around his pointed ears as if to shut out the deafening shriek, but he was barely able to muffle it. Instead, it caused him pain, the noise so sharp and pronounced that it finally brought him to his knees.

Deanna...?

When the noise was thankfully over, Verial cautiously lifted his hands from his ears and glanced at his palms to see that they had a bit of blood of spotted on them. He could definitely hear, but everything all sounds were smothered, as if a pillow had been kept over both of his ears.

"Did you hear that?" Verial asked Layla. Without waiting for an answer though, he shook his head. "Nevermind. Go get Sahar for me, please?"

”Whip and pistol, huh?”

Layla had been listening to Verial’s explanation for what was happening in Chaliceton, digesting the information with a grim set of lip and a furrowed brow. He seemed rather dubious with her words concerning her alliance with Verial, and Layla could not blame him, but damn it all if she wasn’t trying. The man blatantly refused to give an inch, to give her any benefit of a doubt, and now...now he was mocking her choice of weapons.

As polite as Layla Victoire had been before, this time she narrowed her grey eyes at him, her dulcet tone dropping an octave.

“Yes, my lord. Did you believe I was not capable of defending myself? Protecting myself? I am hardly the ‘damsel in distress’ type, Verial, regardless of what you might--,”

Had he been listening to a word she was saying? Layla doubted it highly especially as Verial’s hands were brought immediately to his pointed ears, and the Lord of Arthuran dropped to his knees in writhing pain. Layla’s ire dissipated quickly as she followed suit, her frown replaced with a look of concern as she reached for him.

“Verial? What is it? What has happened?” Layla had not heard the roar of the sea beast as Verial had, and confusion struck her as she could not comprehend why he looked as pained as he did.

It took great pains for him to ask Layla if she had heard something, which added to her confusion, and before she could ask what, Verial had commanded Sahar’s presence. Without missing a beat, the Lady of Bariston nodded sharply and rose to her feet. “I’ll be right back.” In a flurry of mussed blonde hair, the diminutive ruler fled the solar, her voice carrying in the hallways as she called for the desert magae.

“Sahar!”

No sooner had the healer’s name been sounded, did Sahar appear seemingly out of nowhere, honeyed eyes widened with concern. “What is it Layla? Is it Verial? What have you done to him?!” The statuesque woman did not wait for a response from her former friend as she shoved past Layla, who stood in the foyer, indignant and open-mouthed at the healer’s implications. Sahar’s long strides carried her to the solar where Verial was located, leaving Layla alone for the briefest of moments, until she finally gathered herself together and angrily followed.

Sahar was talking softly to her lord, her gentle hand upon his brow as Layla stood in the doorway, a tiny cauldron of both fury and worry. How dare Sahar presume that Verial’s current state was of her doing? Here she had come, an entire continent away, just to make amends, and still she was treated some demonic creature hell-bent on the destruction of Verial Akilara.

Breathe, Layla, just breathe. It is to be expected. You are their enemy as far as they are concerned. It is a matter of proving your true intentions, that is all. Layla reminded herself with the mental pep-talk.

“Verial?” Layla spoke quietly as she re-entered the room only to find herself near the table where a pitcher of water sat in the center with four glasses. She reached for one glass and filled it halfway only to take it to Arthuran’s Lord. “Here, perhaps some water will help?” Grey eyes softened some as she willed with all of her might for Verial to accept the offering.