Chapter 3: Chapter 3: The Lord of the Keep

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The gate captain bolted through the moonlit halls of the Capital’s Keep, well–manicured stone floors rattling with his steps. Those few servants who were still awake at that hour hurried from his path, their cloaks and hoods billowing as they dodged, and the occasional potted plant even fluttered with his speed as he passed. The Keep guards, wearing bronze armor like his, shuffled in place as he ran, wondering if they would soon need to use their spears. When he arrived at his destination, he caught his breath and composed himself, before opening the doors to the main meeting hall.

The governors inside were crowded around the waist-high table without a single wick for light. Some looked like they had just been roused from bed, others were cloaked in noble and ornate vestments, others in more traditional sleeping clothes, but they each had a cup in hand and all spun at the intrusion.

The captain cleared his throat and made his way to the end of the table.

He was quite happy the darkness obscured his flushed cheeks as every figure glared at him. Avoiding their leers more, he glanced at the table they surrounded. Wooden figures, cups, and an imported green candle were spread about in an ad hoc depiction of the surrounding area, allowing the court to plan.

Though it wasn’t the first time he had seen them, they watched him with suspicious eyes, piercing him like a bull’s horns. The discussion he interrupted wasn’t going well as the tension in the room was tangible.

Making his way past the ceiling length window that replaced the wall and the slouched record keeper making a log of the meeting, he placed his fists together and bowed at the man positioned at the head of the table. “Lord Hegwous.”

“Yes?” Lord Hegwous answered.

The Lord’s head was the only thing visible above his all–encompassing black sable cloak, besides the silvery trim lining the vestment. His black hair hung all the way to his hips, neatly combed, but in need of a cut as its length didn’t suit him. It was his skin, however, that was the most off-putting. While a few of the men and women around the table were fair enough to be from the far south of the plateau bordering the creature infested Valley beyond it, Lord Hegwous’ pallor was unmatched. He was nearly as white as raw cotton, the purple circles under his eyes making them appear sunken. His wrinkles were deep and sullen, and his trimmed facial hair made the illusion worse. The only bit of color on his person was the red gem he wore as an earring. It didn’t fit his ensemble and was far too large for it, fit more for a necklace or a crown.

For the captain, his lord’s slumped visage, looming over the planning figures, should have intimidated him. Even more so as Commander Gehsek stood behind Hegwous.

The Commander of all Daksin’s armies was the most heavily armored man in the keep, even more than a general, gleaming in every facet of bronze one could attach to a man with as many jewels stuffed wherever they could fit. His broad, ostentatious red cape was marked with the elephant sigil of his lands. It was sewn in yellow thread in lieu of actual gold and made him shine even more in the pale moonlight.

Even with all the glamor and aura of intangible power, the captain could swear Hegwous’ cloak was simply an unusually heavy blanket.

“I have a report.” He shook his head, and bowed again, still having never gotten used to the lord’s whiteness.

“I would assume,” Lord Hegwous sighed. The others stayed silent.

Lord Hegwous’ speech was stunted. He was foreign, and not only from his look, but by how roughly he spoke the local tongue. Even though the south’s language didn’t demand it, he made each syllable rise and fall like music. He spoke fluently, but couldn’t help putting his own mother tongue’s melody on his words.

“R-right. A noble came through the north gate.”

Hegwous straightened up like a frightened bird. His neck cracked as he whipped his attention to the door as if someone were coming through then. When no one did, he slid across the floor with blinding speed. The captain barely leapt out of the way of his towering Lord, who moved like a drop of water through a stream. Hegwous slammed his hands against the door frame and made the room jump, the bricks cracked under his cadaverous fingers. He shot his gaze up and down the hall.

No one, save a startled servant.

A silence hung over the meeting room as the lord and every governor turned to the captain. Their gazes pinned him to the spot, but Commander Gehsek spoke up.

“A little early for any of the Gwomon to arrive, especially from the north.” His skin was the same earthen brown as any southerner and his thick, graying hair was rigidly kept in place. He tapped his bejeweled sword pommel. Even without the gems, few generals in the Daksinian forces could afford a sword as long as his, if any at all.

Hegwous relented with a sigh.

The captain didn’t even see when his lord’s boney hand had extended from his cloak to grab the door frame, but he could appreciate how unearthly the Lord’s movement looked. His cloak refused to move as he did, even as his hand seemed to dematerialize into its ebony folds, only to reappear to cup his chin.

“Continue,” Hegwous said.

“S-she um,” The captain regained his composure. “She was quite young, my Lord, wild hair and was quite dirty, carried a parasol, but she didn’t appear to have any currency on her. I’m not sure if she’s... Gwomoni. She could have been an imposter, I suppose, but she was much too fair to be a southerner and did have trouble passing through the fire’s light. And we didn’t hear her approach.” He paused, realizing it would explain how she was alive and alone in the Outside, at night.

Hegwous noticed, fisting his hands.

“But she carried a seal!” the captain continued. “We haven’t seen it before but it looked valid. It was a woman with bull horns, sitting betwee—”

“Between a tiger, rhino, elephant, and turtle,” Lord Hegwous finished the man’s sentence monotonously.

Gehsek bit his tongue and the governors bristled, making the captain jump.

“Yes, my lord.” He blinked.

“Thank you. That is all.” Hegwous passed the soldier again, sliding to the window.

“But, my lord. There was something else out there too, the runes—”

Everyone present bristled again at the word “runes” and Gehsek nodded to the door.

The captain swallowed his words, bowed, and took his leave as fast as wouldn’t look like he was fleeing.

The governors muttered amongst themselves, scowling in the darkness as Hegwous gripped the banister along the length of the window, clenching and unclenching, fidgeting and trying to relax as his thoughts percolated.

“It is certainly just someone finding the seal and finding passage. Nothing to fear.” Gehsek tried waving the rest of Hegwous’ audience away. They all looked at each other pointedly.

“We still haven’t even gone over my compensation for the Scorching,” Sneered Governor Hoika in deep emerald green, crossing his thick arms. “It’s been two years.”

“Once Uttara is fully subdued—” Gehsek began but was cut off.

“Oh please!” Governor Doivi scoffed and threw her jamawar shawl over her neck, threaded with peacock feather patterns. “Don’t patronize us. We saw what did the Scorching. It wasn’t a northern spirit, we’re not commoners.”

“Once Uttara is fully subdued,” Gehsek furrowed his brow, “and the Gwomon depart, we can fully repatriate any damages from the war.”

“Damages?” Doivi chuckled.

“Every village I owned with a wooden wall was burned to the ground!” cried the head of house Bhida worryingly.

“If this keeps up I’m not sure I’ll be able to pay any of my taxes,” Governor Vitroi shrugged, the head of house Brthli.

“More criminals and corpses for blood. more food, more trade routes opened, our lands get burned and we’re expected to pay more?” the aging governor Traanla tutted. “All while Commander Gehsek’s lands grow fat from the port taxes! We’ve never even seen this Gwomon but we must prepare for them, outrageous.”

“We need that assistance, Lord Hegwous.” Hoika slammed his hands on the table. “We’ll have to raid each other just to survive.”

“You have more than enough from your trade routes.” Gehsek matched Hoika’s glare.

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“And how are we to know if we are kept here for the Gwomon’s arrival?” Vitroi asked.

“My, tell us to stay for an embassy after burning our lands, then complain we’re not coordinating better taxes?” Traanla shook her head.

“How fitting someone found such an old seal! Even Janelsa Malihabar wouldn’t have literally burned her own land! It was folly!” Governor Doivi scoffed.

The banister snapped under Hegwous’ hands. “Tu sem’n beh!” he bellowed in his native tongue, his voice echoing through the hall and their bones.

They stepped back, their anger evaporating as the nigh invisible hem of Hegwous’ cloak began to rise. Gehsek, who had drawn his sword out of instinct at the shout, stepped back and shot a wary stare at the crowd.

They took the obvious hint, leaving with quick and silent steps.            

Gehsek released the breath he’d been holding, sliding his sword back into its sheath as Hegwous stared at the broken banister. His cloak gently rested on the floor again, covering most of the splitters and pieces of wood as not one pierced the lord’s hands.

“My lord?” Gehsek approached, his gaudy cape billowing behind him as a breeze swept through the room. Rubbing his neck, as if preparing his throat, he switched tongues. “It is only a seal. Anyone could have dug it up accidentally. We haven’t heard of house Malihabar since the Rivers dried up. It means nothing…”

The new language made Hegwous’ ears twitch, the lord’s own mother tongue. It was as choppy as his own attempt at the local language, but Gehsek spoke the words fluently. “Have you seen one recently, Gehsek?”

The Commander curled his lips. “If this is her, Janelsa’s daughter...”

“I can hear you biting your tongue,” Hegwous said.

Gehsek stopped before he bit through it then said through clenched teeth, “Am I right to guess we can’t just kill her straight away?”

“Don’t take that tone with me, Commander,” Lord Hegwous scowled. “You made your case when we took down House Malihabar. Make it again and—” He cut himself off and took a calming sigh. “No, no we can’t.” Hegwous lowered his head, fidgeting in thought. Remembering himself, he righted his posture to a small slouch before pacing. “No, Gehsek. We can’t. If this is her, then she’s survived the Outside this long. I doubt any warrior we’d send to take her out quietly could do so. Not even you.”

“She was no fighter then.” Gehsek chuckled and drew his sword, mocking a few slashes. “What is time in the Outside? A tiger is no match for trained warriors. Even if she’s like us, what’s the harm? Her legacy was dealt with long ago. What’s one girl?”

Gehsek’s staccato use of Hegwous’ mother tongue clashed with how lyrically his lord spoke.

“One girl, one girl with memory.” The Lord rubbed his head, stress leaking from his words. “One girl who the governors may decide they like better than me, or is easier to control.”

Gehsek sighed, sheathed his sword, and moved forward to comfort him. “Hegwous.”

Hegwous recoiled. Not sharply, but it was enough for Gehsek to draw his hand back.

“My Lord, Hegwous, please.” Gehsek grimaced as his Lord caressed his massive red gem. An indistinct shadow rose from its depths to follow his trailing fingers inside it. Gehsek knew what his Lord would suggest next. “He was useful then, but went too far and didn’t control his fires! We don’t need—”

Hegwous let go of the gem, bundled his cloak tighter, and waved Gehsek off in the same manner that the Commander had tried to use to dismiss the lesser nobles. “Summon him, Gehsek.”

With an exaggerated, angry flourish of his cape Gehsek grit his teeth and stepped back. He drew his sword, sighing as his lord never performed the ritual himself, and lined up his blade with the long, thick scar across his palm. The blood pooled from the wound, dripping into the dust of the floor. In his own blood, facing the window, he wrote in a simplistic script consisting only of lines, as if carving into stone. The first character was an upside down hook, the next a north facing fish, then an open mouth, and ended by a simple line. The letters were more basic than the more complex Daksinian alphabet. He squeezed his fist for more blood, and over the whole word he scrawled two swirls that curled in on each other, like two snakes coiling together. In a more guttural language than either his own or his Lord’s, he spoke the incantation to complete what he had drawn.

He still wasn’t sure what the language was, or what he was saying, but it didn’t matter as the letters began to glow. Outside the window a swirl of smoke formed. Gehsek continued until the spell was finished, punctuating itself with a powerful burst. The force of it nearly ripped Gehsek’s cape from its moorings and almost opened Hegwous’ cloak.

Both men lowered their arms, and before them stood a third figure, floating in the air, a white man. Though his color was similar to Hegwous’, his nose was thrice the size, with a burning shock of bright red and orange hair whose tips appeared black when he moved his head, like the last burning embers of a fire. The soles of his black shoes glowed amber, and he stood with a thin hand on his waist. He greeted them with a scoff, making Lord Hegwous and Commander Gehsek flinch.

“Dearest Gehsek, I won’t be accepting these summons anymore without proper offerings.” He strode forward, his light cape billowing as he descended. The glow in his shoes dimmed as he got closer to the ground, darkening to normalcy as he leapt to join the nobles on the floor.

Gehsek and Hegwous did their best to keep their composure, but either fidgeted with their sword or fiddled with their cloak. Neither did a proper job of hiding their quirks, which made the summoned man smile.

“Deiweb, we—” Gehsek was promptly ignored.

“Oh, are you in another war already?” Deiweb stepped closer, and Gehsek stepped back. He chortled at how quickly Gehsek looked away when their eyes met. “How fun. Do I get to play again?” A small flame ran across the tips of his fingers and extinguished.

“I—”

“Not some pissant runes on catacomb doors or city walls because of scary spirits. Why you had me do that before you used my fire anyways, I will never know. Oh! Right.” His hand flew to the top of his head with aplomb. As it did, his hair and face mutated in its wake, smoking and almost bubbling as they changed to the features of a typical southerner. “Better?”

The smoke that rolled off him from the transformation was intangibly foul, beyond even Hegwous and Gehsek’s more sensitive noses. The scent wasn’t putrid like a rotting corpse left for days. Deiweb simply smelled wrong, as if he wasn’t supposed to exists at all.

“Deiweb—” Lord Hegwous corrected himself. “Wise and Cunning Deiweb. I need you to tail someone.”

“Oh,” Deiweb replied. Scowling and rolling his eyes, he strolled over to the table, his thin frame contrasted with the bulk of Gehsek’s armor. “Is that all?”

Gehsek and Hegwous both cringed.

“She just arrived in this city, fairer than most, clearly not a southerner, a parasol, wild hair.” Hegwous stroked his gem.

“You just want me to watch her?” Deiweb scooped up the candle that had been thrown about the room, picking at the reed at the center of the wax lethargically. It began to smoke.

“Partly,” Hegwous continued as Deiweb’s ears perked up, clearly intrigued. “I need you to find out why she’s here. Please.”

Deiweb groaned, pushing himself from the table. “Of course.” His tone fell like a rock and he dropped the candle. It landed with an oppressive thunk. “I’m more than a raven,” He gently spat out like a Kalia’s venom. “I think I’ll give you until the end of this task. If doesn’t turn out as interesting as that Scorching, you’d do to bring a proper offering before I even consider listening again.” As he walked to the window, Gehsek and Hegwous were still, with Hegwous’ skin seeming somehow paler. Deiweb spun on his heel and dropped to a full bow, then extended his hand, as if holding a cup. “To your health.”

Before either of Hegwous or Gehsek could respond, smoke pooled at his feet, then quickly rose to engulf Deiweb. In an instant he was but a wisp, sailing off across the city.

Hegwous released a massive sigh and covered his face with exasperation. “I can’t. I can’t, Gehsek. I can’t. I’m too tired to deal with this too.”

His lord’s honesty drew Gehsek to his side. He wanted to say “You’re the one who summoned him” but knew it wasn’t the time.

“Here.” Gehsek handed him a leftover cup from the table and slid a comforting hand over his shoulders. He slowly unfurled his tight fingers from his sword’s grip.

Hegwous scowled at the cup, grimacing at the diluted blood inside, pure human mixed with animal.

“I know. I know,” Gehsek sighed wearily, as if convincing a child to eat their dinner.

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