empty halls sing a hollow fall

With a sigh, he rubbed a hand across his eyes, then watched Maia with an all too wary expression. He’d spoken too much from his heart, of course, and that was not fitting for a kind. His own beliefs and concerns should only come into play when they directly served to further the situation, and here, with the young Mancer, they had been out of place.

“Of course, Miss Fortuin. Though I did hope that this visit might give the both of us a different perspective on things.” Deas returned her bow with a tired nod, then made for the door. After signalling the guard outside he turned back around to Maia, and said, “If there’s anything you should need, please notify the guards outside. Unless it’s a weapon or the like, they will be happy to provide it for you.” 

He was about to leave it at that, when, with a stray glance, he recalled the bloody fox she had sketched onto the stones. The poor girl. “Perhaps, Miss Fortuin, as one last gesture of goodwill. Pen, paper -- I assume you can write, and quite well, too. I cannot vouch for you being able to send them, political circumstances being what they are, but: I would provide you with both, if you would like. To write letters, and to hopefully give you some distraction from your stay here.” When he saw no immediate disapproval on her face, he nodded to himself. “Good. They will be here tomorrow, at the latest, and should you require anything else -- my previous words still stand. Please. I know you will not be terribly comfortable, but I hope the remainder of your time here will be at least somewhat more pleasant than what came before.”

With that he turned and left, and by the time he had returned to his quarters, he was already halfway through a drafted letter to the Demonlord.

“As to your question. Well, Miss, when I was young I was told that all Dark Souls were terrible monsters who would eat my heart the moment I came within their reach, and that it was the king’s duty to protect his people from such dangers,” he replied with a faintly amused smile. “As you can see, the thing’s we’re told as children aren’t necessarily so black and white as they seem at the time. Nevertheless, you’re right, it does not change the fact that we are still enemies. As king I also have to uphold my duty to keep my people safe -- now, the obvious solution to both of those problems would, naturally, be for me to kill each and every single one of you Dark Souls indiscriminately. Until there is no one left alive to threaten the people under my protection, and that would be that.”

As history had shown for the last handful of centuries, however, that plan of attack had worked about as well as throwing stones at a castle would have any effect at all. “I am not, however, a supporter of needless killing. And there is another way -- if there were peace between the Cold North and the Goodlands, my people would be safe and no more would have to die. “And that’s my plan, Miss Fortuin. I will bring this war to an end not through conflict, but through goodwill and peace.”

“Your father’s sword -- if you had it with you when you were captured, then it is being kept along with the other belongings you had on you at the time. They will be returned to you as soon as the exchange goes through,” he explained. “Which it will. Don’t doubt that, Miss Fortuin. I want it to happen, and I’d wager that the so does the Demonlord. And we’re influential people, he and I; we’ll both see to it that everyone is safely returned to where they belong. There’s no need for you to worry.”

“Are you to--No! I can see why you might think that, but no.” It came out more vehemently than he’d intended, and, surprised by his own reaction, he took a step back from the Mancer. More softly, he continued, “You’re not going to die here, Miss Fortuin. In fact, the sooner you take your leave of us the better -- one of our own Knights has been captured. If all goes well, we’ll trade: you get to go home, and we get our compatriot back.”

There had already been several inquiries as to whether there would be any rescue mission sent out for Daneal -- Deas had refused those requests. The current situation was one which could be solved with no blood shed at all, as long as the Cold North agreed. And he saw no reason why they wouldn’t. Maia, though, would not know that, and he hoped that his words had managed to reassure her at least a bit. A Mancer captive was fine in and of itself, but a crying one was not something Deas wanted.

Maia lay on her prison bunk, still sobbing softly into the stone walls – something she had been doing for hours. The meal her enemies had laid out for her lay untouched next to the door where they had left it. She had no stomach to eat. Besides, though they had endeavored to make her breakfast, all of the eggs had been scrambled. When Maia saw this, it had started a fresh bout of crying for her as it made the distance from even her smallest comforts seemed further and further away. The soldier who had dropped it off seemed apologetic, but said nothing. Maia looked up at the roof of her cell which provided the meager sunlight that lit it. It seemed it was nearing mid-day. This again, upset her as it reminded her how slow the passage of time was in this private hell. Had she really only been here for two days? It felt like an eternity. Maia felt utterly miserable. How could she possibly stay sane in this prison? If only they would give her something to read – or someone to talk to – someone nice. But how could she expect to see a friendly face among her mortal enemies? Maia had not felt this alone since she had escaped from Pai. She became so desperate, she decided to make her own friendly face. Maia bit down hard on her finger till a small bead of blood appeared on it. She then ran the finger across the cold stone to make the rough outline of a fox.

The Mancer, he immediately saw upon entering, was facing away from him, turned toward the wall. With a start Deas realized that she was crying -- softly, yes, but the room was so quiet that it was impossible to miss. Even worse, he didn’t know how to deal with it -- any attempts at comforting her, he figured, would only serve to worsen the situation. In the end he decided to pretend as if he didn’t notice, and coughed quietly to clear his throat. “Miss Fortuin,” he greeted her with a nod he was not sure she would see. “Pardon the intrusion. I am Deas Uef, King of Trolian.” 

“You might have liked him—but that’s a big might. Prickly doesn’t begin to describe him, sweet suns.” Hearing Deas praise her progress was so bizarrely encouraging that a grin spread over her face, and she said quickly, “Hey, watch. Don’t jinx it, now.”

Killah gave him a nod as he spoke of Chodi. “He’ll be more use than me on that front. All I know ‘bout Warelestian that’s more than what I knew in Atiqra is that if you go into the Wastes on your own, you’re a moron.” And very lucky if you come out of it alive, she didn’t add. No need to dwell on the negative — which was a thought she’d never had before, either, or at least not in her memory. Optimism had been buried under a lot of layers of resentment and worst-case thinking, apparently. “Well, that and a lot of things can taste like rabbit if you try hard enough,” she amended, a bit cryptically.

She laughed loudly at Deas’ protests. He really wasn’t a ’sire’, so that was a relief. “I’m sticking with ‘boss,’ though. ‘Cause if I use it in front of other people, only you and I will know I’m being an ass. Everyone else will assume I’ve developed some sort of respect for authority, and that’s just too funny for me to pass up.”

Quieting a little, Killah listened to what he said about recruitment. “Y’know, before I left, I had a conversation or two with a like-minded soul…“ She didn’t mention that said soul wore Mancer black. Well, more of just a stupid coat that happened to be black. But he was a Mancer all the same and that made it Mancer black didn’t it? “But we were talking ‘bout making some sort of… refuge. A place to train Magicians that doesn’t set them up as fodder for the war. Don’t know if you’d be interested in something like that, but if you want we can talk about it more, later. After we’ve both gotten some sleep. Because,” she shook her head and stifled a yawn, “sorry boss, but you look like I feel, and that’s not a good thing.”

“I’ll just take your word for it, then. And well, when it comes to Warelestian. Any information and advice either of you can offer is already a good deal more than what what we have on hand ourselves. Case in point: I’ll inform our agents about the rabbit-flavor immediately,” he joked, chuckling lightly. 

Deas had to fight the urge to hide his face in his hands, the idea of Killah calling him anything just a bit ridiculous. “’Boss’ is entirely fine as long as you’re also aware that I won’t be able to take you seriously,” he laughed. “Now, if only some of the nobles were also privy to that understanding. I swear, they think I must be blind if they think I can’t see them roll their eyes and scrunch up their faces whenever they have to so much as make polite noises at me.” He paused briefly to wink at Killah. “They may yet see reason, of course, but I won’t be holding my breath for it.” 

Pleasing everyone was, at this point, no longer feasible -- Deas was starting to realize that. For all their talk of a unified Goodlands, the nobles were playing their own games. Understandable, of course. Everyone was looking out for themselves and their own country, and he would not -- could not -- hold that against them. But as king, it was Deas’ job to watch out for everyone. And sometimes that meant pushing through with whatever he felt was best despite (strenuous) pushback from others.

That he didn’t have to worry about all sorts of possible diplomatic missteps with Killah was an absolute delight, and something he hadn’t realized he’d missed until it was all but jumping him in the face. Friends? Yes. Friends. With Miero away with his own compan and Madras off on his own errands, friends had been in short supply.

“Good guy, my hermit. Saved me from my own stupidity. Plus, sobered me up, which I can tell you now is something I never thought I’d manage, or even want. But I feel great now.” For the most part. She still hit rough patches, and it was only going to get rougher, she knew, when she was back in the field and fighting. But she just had to keep telling herself it was worth it. It also helped that Chodi’s magic could tame her desire to drink, a little, when it got too bad. They’d talked over it at length and decided it was okay to do that if the need arose. And it had, several times. Still, it felt like an improvement, like for the first time in her life she had a little bit of control on things. She didn’t want to give that up.

Brought back to the topic of her brother, she smiled. “You’ll like him, I’m sure. I was thinking he might even be of some use to you, with all your negotiating and diplomacy shit. Sorry, stuff.” She shook her head, laughing. “Man, do I have to call you sire or something? Because that’s not happening, unless you become a real…uh, ‘unpleasant person,’ now you’re at the top.”

She listened to his words about her leaving the guild, then replied quickly, “Nah, don’t go telling everyone. I don’t want to start a trend that might be a problem for you—I know of a few more like me who ain’t too happy with the whole conscription process.” Bane. Amean. Most of the people she actually had any respect for, really, except Kelt and her Commander. And Deas himself of course, though she didn’t really know where he stood with that. “Just so long as Zea knows I’ll do my own thing (which between you an’ me, that’s exactly what I did before anyway) then that’s all I really want. The freedom to fight on my own terms.” Grinning, she said, “And, I’m glad I’m back too.”

The idea of Killah hanging out with a hermit, and one who had saved her, in her own words -- well. That was truly amazing. “He sounds like a very heroic hermit, if he sobered you up! As well as just a tiny bit intimidating, if you don’t mind me saying so. But both he and you should be very proud,” Deas told her in earnest tones. He was very glad that Killah had happened upon someone like the hermit when she had been in need of support -- a heroic hermit, and very nice apparently. 

Chuckling lightly at Killah’s words, he agreed, “The more help I’m able to get for matters of diplomacy, the better -- your brother’s aid would be very welcome, especially when it pertains to your home country. You too, of course,” Deas added with a smile. There was a certain lightness to this conversation that he’d missed with just about everyone else these days. Miero, of course, was one of the exceptions, and Deas was beyond glad to find that the same was true for Killah, too; perhaps her brother as well. He sounded like a very nice person. And with Killah right now, when Deas laughed it wasn’t one of the polite, forced laughs, either, and it felt very good. “But, please, don’t call me anything like that. It’s already bad enough when people I only barely know do it, so-- I will try very hard not to become an ‘unpleasant person.’ You have my word.”

Deas nodded in understanding as Killah explained the reasons for why it might not be the best of moves to tell people just what she had been up to. She was right, of course. “Naturally -- thanks for thinking of that, I appreciate the thought. Although it seems like the problem is more with how we recruit, rather then with word of the specifics of your departure coming out,” Deas noted. It was something he would have to give extensive thought, he knew -- he had said he was going to change the way the war was run when he had ascended the throne. He was going to stand by that promise, too. But this, Deas also knew, was not something he could do without the proper support -- it would take time, and planning, and neither of those things were in ample supply in the middle of a battle. As soon as it was over, though. As soon as they had won. (Hopefully.) 

She didn’t need much prompting, and collapsed into the chair Deas had gestured to. The look she got for blindsiding her was well worth the hours of travel it took to get there. She laughed at the questions, leaned forward and explained excitedly, “I did! I have! I even brought one of them back with me, my brother. I found them all, Deas. I saw my mother and my tribe and my old friends… it was wonderful. I also got stuck for a while with an old hermit-type guy, but that was better than it sounds.”

Shaking her head she looked around, scrutinizing what little there was to scrutinize. “But I heard you were king now, so I decided to come back. Figured you could use an extra pair of hands—but if I’d known you’d just be hiding out in a dark tent…“ she teased.

Sitting forward a bit, Killah looked closer at Deas. “Seriously, though. I’m here now, so if you need anything, assuming Bane doesn’t kill me for leaving him behind, of course—you say the word. Starting with this battle.” She’d made up her mind along the journey back. So long as she had people to protect over on this side, it would be her side. Not for any sort of patriotism obviously. But just for the practical fact that the fighting was going to continue, and that her friends would be in it. She didn’t want to abandon anyone again, not now that she’d regained so much. She only hoped that they wanted her there, which was more uncertain than she cared to admit. “There’s just one thing.” Killah fixed him with a level gaze, dead serious. “I’ll fight beside them, an’ I’ll take their orders if they’re good ones. But I don’t wanna be a Knight anymore.”

After trying and ultimately very quickly failing to compose himself, Deas gave up entirely and just sat there, grinning happily while Killah talked. “So you did find them -- that’s incredible,” Deas laughed, swept along by Killah’s excitement. “But what’s this about getting stuck with a hermit? Sounds like a real adventure! And your brother, he’s here with you. Wow. You’ll have to introduce us, I’d love to meet him.” And what luck that she had found him and the rest of her tribe! It must have been amazing, to see them all again -- to have that journey, and all the risks she had taken, finally pay off. A great relief.

To have her back here was just as incredible. Deas matched Killah’s posture, leaning forward and drumming his fingers on the table while he talked. He didn’t question her decision to fight again, instead jumping straight to the crux of the matter: “Ah. Yes. If you don’t want to be a Knight anymore, then I will, of course, support you in that decision. The only problem is that I. Well.” He coughed, unsure of how to best explain. “After you had left, so as to buy you some time I told everyone that you were on a very secret mission -- so we'll have to work that in somehow, when we tell everyone that you are once again back with us but no longer a Knight proper.” That would take some thinking to properly work out, but in this matter Deas was sure that he could count on Madras. If he couldn’t come up with a solution on his own. 

“I’m not deliberately looking for short comings! I didn’t insult you first, I was simply pointing out-” She then stopped mid-sentence, sighing and running a hand through her hair. What was she doing? He was the king, whether she liked it or not. And he could demote her at any point since he had the power. She didn’t have to like him, she just had to respect him. Falsely, even. Bealish thought that she could break him down and make him allow her to go if she fought some more on the matter, but what would it look like to the people if he gave in to someone who worked for him?

Looking down, she took a few moments to herself before sitting at a chair close beside him and staring idly at the map. “…I just miss him, Deas,” Bealish admitted quietly. This was more than rare for any sign or emotion from her, but it wasn’t even like she was herself in that instance. But soon enough, she looked up at him with a more tamed and calm expression. “I apologize. I will comply with what you have planned for me,” Bealish continued in a low volume. Deas was now the closest connection she had to Karadas, and even though she wasn’t going to mope around about his death, she wasn’t going to stop hunting for the person who did it.  Clearing her throat a bit, she pulled up a seat for him and looked at the map. “It is true that you have some tactical experience, but you were still learning under myself and I would like to supplement your knowledge…If you’d allow me, of course. But do not expect me to stay by your side for all battles. I’d like to do what I love at some point.” She then studied the map for a few seconds more, even though she knew she didn’t have to. Deas was new to this, he must’ve been nervous. Hopefully she could help him enough so the enemy wouldn’t think that he would be easy to overcome. 

“As for yourself, I would like to personally guard your quarters. I have nothing to do besides help you, so I would like to make sure that no one tries to hurt another one of my kings. I will not take no for an answer on this matter, I’m sorry. I will stay outside by the door if you would like privacy.” Maybe this was why the Demons called her the king’s dog. 

Deas swallowed hard, his throat suddenly uncomfortably dry. He’d thought that by now, he was able to  but the sheer emotion in Bealish’s voice brought it all right back up to the surface, along with a great deal of sympathy for Bealish. Deas had been close to Karadas by blood, but his late brother and Bealish had been true friends -- a much tighter bond. Of course she would be feeling the pain of his passing even more keenly.

“Please don’t apologize.” Deas finally said when he had gathered his thoughts, “not for something like that. I miss him, too. A lot.” There was more he was going to say, about how he felt he owed it to his brother to keep Bealish safe at least for this battle, and how there was nothing he wanted more than for Karadas to be standing here instead of him. Her concession to his orders, however, took him so by surprise that the words once more quickly died in his throat.

Incredulous at what he had just heard, Deas quickly glanced at Bealish. But, no. She seemed very serious (as she always did), and so he quickly told her, “I would be delighted to have your support for the planning of this battle. I very much value your opinions, and your experience will be invaluable.” It would show everyone that high command was capable of working together -- and beyond that, Deas was simply glad to know Bealish was on his side. “And rest assured, I stand by what I said earlier: any further battles to come, you have my express leave to fight wherever and however you want. So, thank you for your cooperation in this. I can’t begin to say how much I appreciate it.”