Quwland

 "What exactly is the Compendium of Ver?" He asked absently whilst pouring over an illuminated scroll.

"The most beautiful and the most horrific tome ever written," his master replied without looking up from his own pile of work "It is a work of art."

"Why is it referenced so many times here?"

"Because these scrolls are medical in nature, and Ver was a raving psychopath who did a lot of unethical things which mean that no-one else ever has to."

"What do you mean?"

The master looked up from his work and met the student's enquiring gaze with a deep coldness in his eyes.

"We no longer have to wonder how long it takes for someone to be digested alive by a worm. We no longer have to ask how long someone can survive on the shoulders without water or food. We now know exactly how long a person's guts can be open before they die. We now know how long it takes a human body to decompose in the sands and how well the mummified organs are preserved... Ver was a mass murderer and a meticulous record keeper. His compendium is full of the results of his wicked experiments and we use that tainted knowledge to save people's lives."

The student shuddered "So why is it a work of art?"

The master maintained his grave expression "The tome is bound with human ivory bleached by the sun. It is so pristine that it glows with an unearthly aura. Each piece of parchment is so perfectly flawless that you forget all too quickly that it is made from human skin. He favoured the pale skinned for his books and the dark skinned for his clothes. The ink on every page is a mixture of charcoal and Gavia blood, and it is all enchanted and bound so that it never fades, never ages and never falls apart."

They both felt as though the room had grown colder.

"Now that you know. Do not speak of it."

 As she sat in by the window of her well lit and spacious office, she struggled to comprehend the level of desperation that would have driven her current accused to do what he did. The case file scroll sat open on her desk a short distance away. She gazed out across the city as she considered the facts of it. That morning the prosecution had made their case quite clear and the defense had very little to say in defense of their client. It was clear from the representative's face that his own client disgusted him. She was so lost in her own thought that she didn't even notice she was no longer alone.

"Nasty case, that."

She turned to look at her guest. He was another of the judges here at the courthouse, and he came with another scroll, this one marked with the royal seal.

"Orders from above," he commented dryly "His majesty has granted you leave a judgement of either exile or forced labor if you pass a guilty sentence."

She frowned "Not imprisonment? He butchered someone."

He replied "His majesty has no love for loan sharks."

"Does anyone?"

A face appeared in her doorway "Your honour, ten minutes till we resume."

She sighed, her fellow judge frowned, and the face vanished into the gloom away from the window.

"Wheres the labor sentence?" She asked plainly,

"The new reservoirs at the utmost edge and the new aqueduct leading deeper into the wilds."

The deafening wail of the all at hands siren pulled him violently from his rest joined by loud shuddering and the scream of twisted metal. He groaned loudly and cursed, barely audible over the cacophony. His bunk-mates were also stirring and began to pull on clothes as quickly as they could. The door opened and his commanding officer barked orders, he couldn't hear a word, but his eyes stung from the bright reflection off the corporal's nameplate. For the briefest moment the word "Adija" flashed through the room followed by a burning, flooding light. He cursed again and dressed. Their ship was under attack. The wailing subsided for just long enough for the words of his commanding officer to reach his ears.

"All engineers report to stations, hostile fleet inbound. We're too close to the planet-"

Honored as she was to receive the residential posting from her dear nephew, his great and almighty highness Stivanous the Fourth, King of Adjisa Gor, she was horribly bored. Her apartment in the upper reaches of the temple was suitably comfortable and richly furnished. All of her favorite artworks had been brought here from her old family seat, and her sons were allowed to visit whenever their schedules permitted. The food here was also quite excellent and the monks were very generous with their provisions so she never wanted or went without. But for all her comforts, there was no-one to gossip to. No courtiers to scandalize or proper young men to embarrass. No plays, no musicals, no tawdry affairs to witness and expose to the world. She did so love that whole process, and she had been especially excited to have learned the truth of the king's children last month and now she had absolutely no-one to share it with.

12th Day of the Month of Boughs, Year 564 of the Vanous Dynasty

He waited for her in the entrance to the Arcane Association's main headquarters. From his perch between the columns he gazed absently at the arcanists going about their business and noticed others like him, skulking around the columns. They were also warriors, clad in plate and cleverly wrapped in fabric and shawls to protect themselves from the dry heat and exertion of the lands beyond the city's limits. He was waiting for a new rune-set which his long time companion and guild mate was currently busy crafting somewhere in this mighty edifice.

He leant his head back against the wall behind him, allowing his eyes to wander up past the rich blue plasterwork and up the stone where he met the gaze of a slight young thing staring at him from the colonnade on the upper floor. It was a boy... or it could have been a girl. It was hard to tell with the arcanist's robes. Still in his late teens and full of enthusiasm. He was writing something. Or was he drawing. He was definitely drawing and with such a curious expression. The warrior smiled to himself and struck a flexing pose. The youth laughed.

"What are you doing?" the sound of his friend's voice snapped him to. She had arrived with the runes and followed the warrior's gaze to the upper colonnade "Really if you've enough time to be flirting with jailbait you could have at least got me another set of Sanasi stones. I barely had enough to finish the ritual." The warrior adopted a sulking expression, but thanked her for the runes. "They should keep you cool for long enough but you'll have to refresh the enchantment in six months. Next time bring me some aloe blooms and I can make it last twice as long."

She then stared up at the youth, her hands at her hips and lips firmly pursed. He vanished from his perch. The warrior sulked off with his prize, his friend's eyes leaving their mark on the back of his skull.

***

He loitered under the broad stone archway, his back to the cool and eyes shaded by the natural drop of the midday shadows. He had stopped at his guildhall to apply his new runeset and emerged to find a message from his arcanist friend. He was waiting for her now under the arch of Baron's gate. A remnant of the days when the mighty city of Thrace only occupied the Valley of Kings and no further. Ordinarily he enjoyed this part of the city; the enticing smells of the bakery mingling with the sweet and heady perfume of the florist opposite; the cool and gentle breeze that blew through the high stone cliffs and sandstone buildings as the air of two valleys mingled. Today he was expecting a scolding. So there was no joy in it. He hadn't meant to flirt. He didn't even know if the youth was male or female. Not that that mattered to him, but it was the principle of the thing.

'Gods I hope he was at least of age...' he thought, then his friend's face flashed into his mind's eye, full of unimpressed regard. He scowled.

“Thats not a good look for you, Johnaro.” A cool, level voice snapped him from his sulk. He rolled his eyes and replied impolitely.

“So sorry, Torfann.” He surveyed the young man who took a loitering spot opposite. Torfann was younger than him, better looking, more toned, better dressed and still had all his hair. A rich, thick mahogany mane that fell effortlessly and looked sickeningly perfect. He matched it with a near permanent expression of silent and brooding, which drove men and women to seek his hand constantly. It affected Johnaro too. It annoyed him to his core. It didn't occur to him for a good ten minutes that they were both waiting on the same person. By which time it was already too late.

“Zaha, Gulmunn. Is this your young apprentice?” Torfann pushed himself away from his perch and walked to meet the arcanist of the hour. Johnaro fought to keep his scowl away. She didn't look annoyed, so that was good at least, but he hadn't properly listened to her message so it was only a matter of time.

He'd assumed, of course, so had both axes strapped to his back along with his sling and a few bolas. His backpack was full of his usual assortment of junk and possessions and his waterskin was nicely filled and plump. It rested by his hip in the folds of his armour, the loose wrapped fabric framing the metal plate not only kept him cool but also hid all manner of goodies. Most of them food related.

He eyed Torfann. Mr Perfectly Prepared had also packed light, he had his bow of course, and the needle he called a sword, and a bedroll. Johnaro cursed inwardly. He'd forgotten his bedroll. Judging from the look on Gulmunn's face he'd also not been listening. She looked thoroughly unimpressed. He winced.

“What are we heading to the uplands to kill?” Torfann asked in his ever steady voice.

“A worm. Hopefully just the one but it nested last year so... who knows.” she replied “Try not to mash it up too much though, I could use some tendons and a few venom sacks.”

Her apprentice blanched.

Johnaro smiled. Gulmunn's apprentice was a dumpy, awkward girl. She was yet to grow into her looks, but her personality was cut from the same cloth as his. They got along famously, like brother and sister, at least to him.

“We can leave whenever Johnaro has finished daydreaming.” Gulmunn added.

Torfann didn't smile. Johnaro wondered if he even knew how. He shouldered his pack, bowed deeply “Your majesty.” and followed as Gulmunn rolled her eyes and led the way.

As they walked through the streets of the capitol to the Sarinaw gate, Johnaro and the apprentice fell to their usual spot at the back of the party. Gulmunn and Johnaro worked together frequently enough that the warrior and the arcanist's apprentice had become good friends.

“How are your new runes? Do you like them?” She asked plainly, wrinkling her nose as she squinted up at him. She was much shorter and the glare of the canyon walls behind his silhouette was unpleasant.

“Aye, they're good. Did you help?”

She nodded, still wrinklenosed and pulled a lump of fringe from her eyes and tucked it behind her ear. “I wasn't allowed to help with the chanting but I helped with the catalyst. Some of the stones you got were no good.”

“Ah. Thought I'd brought enough; I got told off.”

She smiled “Me too. Didn't chop them fine enough.”

Johnaro did his best Gulmunn impression “No, clothear: do it again!”

The apprentice giggled and added in an uncanny tone “If I have to send that idiot out again who knows how long it will take!”

The warrior faked an overreaction of offence, which sent her into a laughing fit.

“Jhevokk, did you bring your focus?” Gulmunn's voice instantly snapped the youth back to solemnity.

“Yes, Gulmunn.”

“Good. You'll be using it.”

Johnaro piped in “So do you know what kind of worm it is?”

The scroll slipped from the top of the pile. It's wooden binder hitting him squarely on the shoulder before clattering noisily to the floor and unraveling in it's roll towards the wall. He grit his teeth and drew a heavy breath. "Do you even care about keeping your post, Alari. Or would you rather take up as a people watcher. I hear the pay is significantly less." Another scroll toppled, this one clearly aimed, he caught it before it stuck his head.

A drawn out note of unmistakable female irritation came from the other side of the pile "I really don't care about summoning spells and these were all written by dry, boring old men from the cloisters. Can you honestly understand half of what's in these?"

He put his notes to one side and stood up to speak to her over the stack, she was head down upon the desk surrounded by piles of neat little notes in her own hand "I cannot."

Alari looked up at him with a weary expression. He continued "But if you had not set Maester Yulia's robe on fire we would not be here."

The cool and shady streets of the village of Teiba were a welcoming relief from the baking heat of the temple valley. Even with the cooling effect of the water temple's many aqueducts and cascades, the sun was not tempered. He rested against the central pillar of the entrance way for a moment, letting his skin drink in the coolness of the shadows and his eyes adjust to the gloom. The village was exactly the way he remembered it. The houses carved into the living stone of the cliffs, the needlessly curved tavern roof, the little winding pathways and of course the imposing entrance to the school high above.