Malum In Se [Finn]

[Erratum]

The room's acoustics were excellent; divine, even. The sounds did not simply echo off the walls, but instead coiled and pooled, gathering slowly like some sort of thick liquid. The soundscape built itself out of Finn's song, and the room seemed to change as the emotion of the music grew.

Around the Legatus and his companion, the shadows deepened, reaching away from their customary niches towards the light which cast them, until the candles seemed muted and distant. Color faded from the world, and Finn felt the reverberations of his notes ring out into the endless darkness, seeking, endlessly seeking-

Connection.

Karmordi sat alone in his campsite, bathed in the glow of carefully-tended flames, and consulted his chart.

The young berserker's camp was immaculate- though the man was impulsive in battle and quest alike, he had been well-drilled by Achaka, and he traveled like a soldier. His bare flesh was anointed with the sabs and ointments which kept away mosquitoes (and in Ecith, the mosquitoes could be deadly), and his firepit was carefully shaped and tended to preserve heat and direct light. He had pitched his tent in military style, and was carefully drying out his boots while he kept his feet in dry compresses to avoid any rot.

As the ork completed his nightly camp duties, however, he seemed to see something surprising in the fire. It... danced. Not in the way that flames always dance, but as though it were reverberating in time with something. A metronome, perhaps. Or a song.

"Finn?" the ork asked, quietly, "Is that you? I feel as though I can almost hear-"

Connection.

In the darkness behind Karmordi, a symphony emerged. No, not emerged, exactly. It spun itself out of the darkness, out of the shadows. From nothing came something, and that something was...

Absolute, pure, burning spite.

Two sets of red eyes opened in the shadows beyond Karmordi's camp, and two sets of vicious teeth parted in twin smiles. Though Karmordi lacked the right rune, the overwhelming force of unadulterated malice which filled the little campsite prickled his skin, and he fell silent. The berserker grabbed his axe instinctively, and whirled around to face the shadows.

"Who-?" Karmordi stopped himself. Talking was a stupid thing to try, in the middle of the jungle. If he was being hunted, it wasn't as though he could talk his way out of it. He simply needed to-

"You know who, Karmordi. Why, I'm the one you've come here for."

The voice from the darkness beyond Karmordi's camp was low, rough, distinctly inhuman and un-Orkhan. It was quiet, but somehow filled the entire grove like a bellow. Every other noise in the jungle, save the rustling of the wind through the boughs above, seemed to die down. The world held its breath.

"Liar-beast." Karmordi said, and there was a grim satisfaction to his words, "So, you've decided to save me the trouble of hunting you? Come out, then, and let us end this."

"No need to rush." the monster responded, "You know it can't be that simple. You sit there and bide your time, wait for your moment to strike. But while you do that... let me offer you a little free advice."

Karmordi snorted, rising to his feet as his eyes scanned the darkness. There was obviously no point in listening to a monster which was going to try to destroy him with its words. On the other hand, it wasn't exactly a good idea to rush out into the darkness either just to spite the beast. Until it slipped up, stepped into the light, he'd be rushing in blind, literally.

"All you have ever sought since you were born... is glory. Glory." The monster's inhuman tone dripped with amusement, "What is that, exactly? Can't feed a village with it. Can't mend a broken heart. All the glory in the world can't fix a broken plough. Perhaps the most worthless thing in the world."

"But it's your life to waste, Karmordi. You want to grow old and die playing soldier in a nation which has never won a war, which nobody even cares to conquer? Fine. Except... it's not fine, is it? You've trained and won all those little medals and gotten those glowing smiles from your commanders, and you're still going to die a nobody. You don't get real glory except in one way: fucking things up for everyone else."

The Ork looked, at most, vaguely annoyed. This certainly didn't seem to be driving him mad.

"Yes. That's why you sought out your little friend, the Legatus, to feel like your play-fighting meant more than the children banging wooden sticks together. That's why you sought out the Great Witch, so you could find a path to something real."

Karmordi snorted. "Ecith is built on the chiefs who slew Primals. That was more than just... self-aggrandizement. Your mockeries are hollow." Sort of surprising to see that the young man knew the word "self-aggrandizement", really, but everyone had their hidden depths.

"For every chief who built a village, there are a hundred who got their whole tribes killed. Do you know why the witch Imogen sent you to hunt me? It's because she knew your quality. She could see at a glance that you're the kind of person with heavy dreams. Dreams which crush everyone around them when they fall. Send Karmordi to the Liar-Beast, confront him with that essential truth; your sad, hollow wish for glory was harmless enough, but combined with ambition...? Yes, that will poison everyone around you."

Karmordi forced himself to be silent, not to engage, but his hands tightened around his axe. Apparently, this was getting to him just a bit.

"It's the same with your new friend, Finn. You told yourself you would keep your eyes wide, understand what he wants and what harm the desert-dwellers want. But you can't accept that he's anything but a friend, because that makes you more important. You never mattered even a little before you met Finn; now you get to talk to Achaka and answer questions of Senators. You want him to be a good thing, so that you can keep mattering just a little."

The Liar-Beast giggled.

"And now? You relied on him to overcome the witch's trial, you relied on him to discover how to face me... and now your entire plot to kill me relies on him? Oh, Karmordi, is there nothing at all to you but this sad wish to borrow the glory of others?"

Karmordi rushed at the shadows, his axe raised high, as the Liar-Beast laughed and laughed and laughed.

[Finn]

Suddenly, it seemed as though Finn were in two places simultaneously. His mind shied away from it, and he let his soul hold it instead. There were paradoxes that broke minds, yet those same paradoxes were understood by the soul, harmless, really.

It was a strange sort of friendship he had developed with Karmordi. Most of their time together was spent trying to kill each other, and then afterward they laughed about it. Finn had never been a confrontational, combative character. He still wasn't, but despite being fairly tall and strongly built, he had been the victim of violence too many times, and feared for the safety of loved ones. Now he honed himself like a weapon against people like Karmordi.

Now he sang from halfway across the continent so his friend would not feel alone on his hero's quest.

Finn couldn't say whether it was a good thing or not. He had tried to ask the right questions to help Karmordi question his own motivations, become more self-aware, which, at least from a literary standpoint, was the fundamental part of a hero's quest.

Connection.

"Just remember:
Someone is on your side."

That was all he could do. Syren didn't allow him to speak or to act; he couldn't hold Karmordi back when he finally gave in to instinct or emotion and charged barefoot into the heavy foliage, but he could remain present, holding space, an anchor to remind him that, at the beginning, he had gone on this quest not for glory, although that might be attendant upon what he accomplished, but to equip himself to help his fellow people.

While vamping through the chord progression, he tried to use his own words: "Karmordi. The most effective lies are half-truth. Don't take the lure. Don't listen."

Perhaps it transmitted, but he didn't know if Karmordi could listen to him while listening to the Liar-Beast.

"While we're seeing our side,
Maybe we forgot: they are not alone."

[Erratum]

Karmordi's wild charge into the darkness was met with a surge of movement as the monster lunged at him in turn. But shaken as he was, the berserker was still an excellent warrior. He anticipated the half-seen monster's strikes, blocking two of them with his axe before swinging the haft around in a counterattack. Sadly, his blow struck only fur, the monster retreating with the lightning speed borne of its animal instinct.

But in that moment, that flash where it was exposed to the light of Karmordi's flickering campfire, Sivan could see its face:



The beast was big, almost twice as tall as the Orkhan, who himself towered over Finn. Its hair was the sort of grey which suggested white, and its beady eyes were so red they practically glowed in the night. Its claws and teeth were stained and blackened bone, and its hot breath carried the stench of rot.

But most of all, it was instantly clear to Finn that it was in, fact, an animal. Behind the hideous symphony of hate was a simple, bestial song- one of hunger, and lust, and craving for comfort. The creature was no more complex a mind than any of the horses Finn had ever ridden.

"It's a simple trick." a soft, female voice said next to Finn's ear. The acolyte of Galetira had, it seemed, followed him into Syren's temple after all. Her blindfolded gaze was fixed on the shadows, just as his was. "But deadly. Within the Liar-Beast is an organ which acts like a spiritual acoustic, echoing the symphonies of those who face it- but warping them, tainting them with infinite self-loathing."

~ o ~

Karmordi backed slowly into the circle of light around his campsite, blinking rapidly as he scanned the darkness for any hint of movement. If he wasn't careful, it would get behind him, and it would only take one good hit from those huge claws to rip out his spine.

"No..." Karmordi said to himself, "If I seek power, it is only to protect others. That is what I want, with all my heart. All my soul." It was unclear if he'd somehow heard Finn's voice, or if he simply came to the same conclusion on his own. Perhaps it was a bit of both? Only Syren herself could say, in that moment.

"A small correction, if I may."

The Liar-Beast's voice sounded entirely composed, serene, even. If it was winded from the momentary clash, it gave the Ork no sign.

"Your quest for glory is inspired not by those whom you will save, but the one you could not save. Do you remember the look on your father's face when he died?"

Silence filled the grove like a shock. Karmordi's eyes widened as though he'd been punched in the gut.

"Oh! No, I'm sorry, of course you don't." the monster snickered, "You have forgotten your father's face, along with everything else. You can't recall his last words to you, or the time he spent training you, or the gifts he provided you. Nobody can."

"But you do remember the terror of that, don't you? The sleepless nights, as you struggled to understand the void inside you? The months of trying to go to sleep and failing, because you were worried that everyone in the world would have forgotten you when you woke? Yes... that's what drives you. Because you're afraid to be forgotten."

The ork shook as the Liar-Beast went on, the once-composed voice now positively gloating. The shadows around Finn seemed to waver, filling with a grey, static void which was neither light nor darkness as Syren's divine power seemed to quaver before even the implication of the force the Orkhan called The Unknown.

Red was filling Karmordi's eyes, his breathing growing quicker and quicker. In the face of this hurt and mockery, the man was on the edge of giving into his berserker bloodlust, to seek refuge from memory in a blissful state of unthinking rage. Finn had seen it many times on the training field, for it made the young man into quite a fearsome sight- but it also made him predictable, blunt. If he gave in, he would surely rush the Liar-Beast, and only Vexhur's own luck would keep him alive against the huge ambush predator then.

[Finn]

"Diabolical," he murmured, almost more aware of Karmordi's situation than his own. The acolyte was unlikely to be a threat, and so he rode along almost within the Ork's own symphony, and also without. He couldn't claim to understand divine magic, even with some familiarity with the power of the Divine Twins of Solunarium.

So, the Liar-Beast was merely a beast; a special organ empowered its prey to lie to itself, to work itself into being easier prey. The test itself could force a person into processing pernicious histories, but it was also a cheat. Karmordi wasn't going into it with full knowledge; he supposed few could. And Karmordi seemed to be following the path of least resistance: the path toward rage. That would likely get him killed. It certainly wouldn't process what enraged him, but the Liar-Beast only wanted to eat, not to empower him.

Finn would have to cheat in order for Karmordi to pass this test, to live. If he lived, he would have further opportunity to better himself. If he died, it would be another spin of the wheel into a new life with new problems, beyond Finn's ability to assist.

For a moment, he considered chasing down those memories Karmordi was punishing himself for losing, but he knew the voice of self-recrimination would just adapt. There was no way Finn could know Karmordi as well as the Ork did, and so that would be a losing battle for all except the hungry animal with the low-blow trick.

Instead, he denied him full access to his rage. He would have to choose another.

He didn't know if his words were passing through as words, or if it was the music and the Mesmer—another question of divine magic that was beyond his ken.

The situation in Solunarium didn't lend itself to him using Mesmer on other people. There were so many masters and grandmasters, people powerful enough to be warded, Sentinels with their warded uniforms, and the like. Most of his own mastery was used in tuning himself. Now, he lent that ability to his friend.

Father isn't here now

Wrong things, right things

Who knows what he'd say?

Who can say what's true?

In magic and song, Finn wove a new architecture for the music that made up the berserker who needed not to go berserk. He separated consciousness from the triggers of his rage, lending him an objectivity within his own thoughts and feelings. Karmordi could see his rage, reach out and touch it if he wished, but he was not overwhelmed by it.

His heartbeat evened out—not slow, as he was going to have to fight—but measured. Metronomic.

He had to slay the beast in order to survive. In order to slay the beast, he had to weave his way through the enemies his own mind created for him, which would attack him in order to distract him from his mortal peril. This was not a battle that could be won with a bum rush and overwhelming violence. The Liar-Beast was larger by far, and armed with natural weapons.

This required an elegant ballet through his own traitorous illusions so he could fight this animal with all his faculties intact.

He had to remember what his father had taught him so that he could survive to try to remember his father's face when he died and all the other things he punished himself for losing as the sands of time slipped through his fingers.

People make mistakes

Fathers

Mothers

People make mistakes
Holding to their own
Thinking they're alone

Honor your mistakes

Fight for their mistakes

Everybody makes

One another's
Terrible mistakes

Just remember:

Just remember:

Someone is on your side.

[Erratum]

Con-

-nec-ct-

Finn's music passed through the shadows, dragging his magic with it like a lace. There was no way for him to comprehend it, the method by which Syren's song wound its way throughout Creation, reaching the one he played for through stone and tree and shadow and miles. It was, perhaps, a mystery even his masters could not explain- the gods were knowable only to the gods, and even then...? Well, who could say?

But however mysteriously it worked, work it did. Karmordi's breathing grew calmer, less labored, his eyes focused. The spittle around his mouth ceased, and in the space of a moment he had recovered much of his resolve. Still, he was clearly agitated. Could he survive another volley of the beast's-

"The fact of the matter-" the Liar Beast spoke up again, but there was something off about its voice. It still dripped with malice, but it seemed... confused? "Is that you are Arvælyn's weakness. You have already seen one threat to him, and it was nearly beyond you. What happens next time? Would he even have needed saving if he'd married well, rather than carrying you around his feet like a chain?"

The Ork blinked. "Wh- what are you talking about?"

The Liar Beast chuckled. "Your god is in need of a champion, not an accompanist. So long bound, and now his greatest devotee is meant to be, what, a man who isn't even willing to command? Who hates, in his heart of hearts, to dominate? You know how sad that is."

Karmordi's head tilted, his rage almost entirely extinguished by the baffling stream of nonsense the monster had begun to speak. "My... god? Raxen doesn't need a champion. He's never known defeat."

"For this- for THIS, you abandoned Arcas. How do you think your mother would look, if she could see you now?"

The berserker shook his head, realizing at last that the creature was not actually conversing with him at all, and nothing he could say would make sense of the babble. Karmordi focused himself instead on carefully tracking the direction of the nonsense, trying to triangulate both its position and its precise direction. He gripped his axe with a backwards grip, which Finn recognized as preparation for one of his swift charges.

"One blow..." Karmordi muttered to himself. That was all he would get, before the Liar-Beast would set on him with its superior strength. If he could cripple it with that blow, he stood a good chance of overcoming it. But if it should dodge him...? He closed his eyes, trying to perfect the map of his surroundings in his mind, to track the beast with as much precision as he could. When to strike?

When to strike?

~~~

Back in the shadow's of Syren's temple, Karmordi's thoughts echoed in the chamber like the words of a chorus, building in the background. "When to strike? ... When to strike? ... When to strike? ... When to strike?"

"One true blow." the Seer whispered, her voice cutting through the rising noise of Karmordi's thoughts, Finn's song, and the Liar-Beast's confused taunting, "Is all it ever takes- to destroy a devil, an empire, a god. The right strike. The right place. The right time. The culmination of the Triumvirate's insights."

[Finn]

Syren's magic was beyond Finn's ken; perhaps that was why he was surprised to find himself affected by the Liar-Beast's organ. Only he didn't realize it at first. At first, he only felt the strange disconnect as it tried to sever his euphony with Karmordi's music. He felt as if the Liar-Beast was looking through the long distance directly at him. It was one thing to know somewhat the mechanics of this feeling; it was yet another to suffer under it.

"Arvælyn needs me," he whispered, though his hands didn't falter at the strings and frets. He had played too many years for his supper to have his music so easily derailed by emotions inappropriate to the song.

"If I am the chink in his armor, all the more reason for me to be strong..."

His inventive imagination showed him a dragon in flight, brought down by a singular asshole with a rather powerful bow and one wicked arrow. Dwarves rejoicing. Weird.

"My God is not static. That He can adapt is proof of His strength. That I can change is proof of mine..."

It didn't matter that he knew he was wrestling with himself. He knew his own soft spots better than anyone else and he was ever his own worst critique. Recalling lute lessons in his youth, even his teacher spent more time building him up than critiquing as he was cruel to himself in ways he was never cruel to another, not even to Ciarán when he was being a little cunt.

But he could sense that while the Liar-Beast's defense mechanism was focused on him, it left Karmordi unburdened and so he continued to process his own fears. It just hadn't occurred to him that this would be a hero-journey for him as well. He had thought he was outside of peril while in the abode of a God.

Not so.

"The desert air is good for Mama's health," he said. Confused that his own mind would harp on old realities, but it gave him a bit of respite. "I have been able to carve out a place for my family. She can dabble in finer metals. Pa can play with his grandchildren. Morgaine and their husband have prospects and their children will want for nothing. Even Ciarán is enjoying himself."

If he had initially worried about culture shock for them, the fact that he could provide for them was something he took pride in. Not only were they comfortable farther from the capital, when they did travel, they were accorded all honors for their newly ducal pedigree.

"The Triumvirate's insights," he said, this time to the seeress, "and Aværys' might."

As he said this, he channeled the grace his God had allotted him, and poured it through himself. He did not let it touch Karmordi, lest he trespass upon religious rules of which he was ignorant. But he sought to burn away the Liar-Beast's influence, and prepare it for death.

He wanted this over and done.

Yield!

[Erratum]

Finn's responses didn't matter, of course. The Liar-beast was two hundred miles distant, and could not hear him; and even if it could, it could not understand him. As he spoke those words, he heard the stirring in the air and shadows like the laughter of whatever god had left the creature as some kind of sick joke. Why are you arguing with yourself? it seemed to ask, but it did not wait around for an answer.

The duke's counterstroke, however, did silence the beast. His power and the grace of his god spiraled across time, from shadowy room to shadowed glen, and struck the Liar-Beast like a physical blow. It was almost shockingly easy- but then, that was the ultimate lie, wasn't it, that the creature was anything but a brute animal. For all its mystique and hideous, irresistible logic, it folded to real power as instantly as an angry dog might.

Karmordi stared as the monster suddenly fell to its knees, crashing to the ground as it fought frantically against the command which had overcome its mind like a steel trap... but he did not let his surprise wrest the moment away from him. Mere moments after Finn's command, his axe flashed like a great lunar crescent, scything through air and dangling vines and cleanly removing the monster's head at the neck.

The berserker stood there for a moment, breathing heavily as he tried to comprehend everything which had just happened over the course of a minute or two. Then he walked over to a tree and leaned heavily against it, gathering his composure. For all that Karmordi was usually ecstatic in victory, this time it seemed that he could not quite bring himself to-

The shadows in the chamber lifted as more candles were lit, the priests of Syren apparently sensing that the rite's purpose was over. As the shadows faded, so too did Finn's view of Karmordi. Within seconds, the time and space between the two reasserted themselves, and Finn felt his connection sever without fanfare, as the ordinary limits of the magic reasserted themselves suddenly.

More acolytes escorted Finn from the temple--politely, but firmly, for this entire affair had been something of an inconvenience for their ordinary schedule--and he was left to return with his retinue to the consulate. As he left, however, he could hear the whispers of the acolytes speaking with the young Seer, who stayed behind:

"Well? What transpired?"

"No compulsion was laid upon orkhan this night." the Seer said, sounding very much like she'd like to leave and get to sleep instead, "You may report that the Tenants of the Sea remain unbroken... for now."

~o~

It took another two weeks for Karmordi to return to Drathera, carrying with him the carefully-enspelled box he had taken. Though Imogen had asked him only for the preserved tongue of the creature, he had chosen to lug the monster's entire head, with an intent on taxidermy and the eventual creation of a trophy. By the time he called upon Finn, the usual humor and energy had well and truly returned to the young Ork, who seemed nothing but celebratory about their collective triumph.

"Have a look at the thing!" he boasted, hefting the head out of the box. Karmordi had carefully plugged up the neck with treated cloths, and it did not reek or drip, but it was still an awkward thing to display, being almost three feet around. In death, the Liar-Beast looked truly like the animal that it was, face slack and motionless, threatening only in its size and design. "The Librarians say nobody's hunted one for generations."

The smile faded a bit, and the berserker grew unusually serious. "In truth, were it not for your aid, I don't know how I might have done it. I don't know exactly what you did, that night, but I could feel you. So... thank you."

[Finn]

There was a strange juxtaposition of pleasure at submission to his will and a pang for the animal who was only looking to eat, but if Karmordi did nothing but return with its tongue for Innogen, well, the jungle would reclaim its remains. Nothing really went to waste in nature.

Only practice at politics allowed him to recover his aplomb as he was summarily shown out. Some emotional turmoil remained as he exited the temple, and then vaulted back to the Prædium Solunarii. His sleep was troubled, so he was glad the Senate was not convening on the morrow as he made a point to attend every tenday, even if they did not call upon him to speak for Solunarium.

*~*~*

Finn's eyes widened at the sight of the trophy. It was a bit grotesque; there truly was no dignity in death no matter what people tried to do to prove otherwise. He supposed there was a lesson there. But he nodded.

"Fearsome enough without its secret weapon," he acknowledged. He smiled. "Another step on your hero's journey, hey?" He cuffed the Orkhan on the shoulder. While he didn't ask whether Innogen hadn't been counted among those who hunted the Liar-Beast in the Librarians' estimation, he filed that discrepancy away for possible later use, perhaps just to seek clarification if he ever heard from the Wicked Witch of the North again.

"You are welcome, my friend," he said, tone going serious to match Karmordi's.

"If I have learned anything from my own rise from obscurity, it is that I stand on the shoulders of giants, and I have had support when I needed it. What I have learned from being an observer and occasional support in your journey, it is that leaders might be required to go out on a limb for the good of their people, but they must remember that they are supported by the people the lead, and they are never truly alone.

"We must prove ourselves worthy in order to lead, and then we must continue to prove that we do not lose that worthiness, that it doesn't curdle into a sense of entitlement." His smile said he didn't think that was true of Karmordi, and was as much an admonishment for future-Finn as future-Karmordi. "Now, what's next?"

[Erratum]

Karmordi didn't seem entirely convinced by Finn's reassurances- but then, when was anyone ever entirely assured of themselves? Still, he nodded a silent thanks for Finn's philosophical musings. It meant something, at any rate, to have such thoughts voiced by another. Especially someone whom the man so clearly held in high esteem.

"Next... well, I have my payment for Innogen. I suppose I'll need to deliver it."

The berserker prised open the dead monster's mouth, displaying the interior to Finn. Though he was no Liar-Beast orthodontist, the bard could easily see that the tongue had already been removed, its absence leaving the monster's throat and uvula exposed and wrinkled.

"I cut the tongue out as soon as I was sure the thing was dead. Put it in a little glass bottle of preservative which I bought from an alchemist down on the third Landing. Pretty expensive-" Karmordi grimaced. He was, Finn knew well, a soldier on a soldier's salary; though word was the Ecithian army paid well for an organization which hadn't fought a real war in twenty years. "But I was told it'll keep the tissues intact for years, if need be. I assume that's good enough for whatever she wants this for..."

Left unspoken was Karmordi's vague unease with the payment. Having experienced the Liar-Beast first hand, he shared some measure of Imogen's deep distaste for the creatures. Quite probably she'd asked him to do this precisely because she wasn't interested in hearing from one of the monsters ever again. But then... what could she want with the tongue? She was a witch, of course, and perhaps there was all manner of magic which it could bolster.

But... well, it was hard to imagine such magics being used for good. As the author of the ancient Vastian text had written, the beast was evil in itself.

"Yes, well. Innogen is a hero, of course." Karmordi reminded himself, "Knight of Searing, Vanquisher of Silence, River-Healer, Dragon-waker, all of that. If she wants this, doubtless she's got a good reason. And she said she said she'd train me on Ailos."

For a moment, Karmordi was content to leave that statement there, as though it were self-explanatory. Then he remembered that Finn was a foreigner, and might not grasp all the implications.

"Ailos being sacred land, of course, both to us and to her goddess. If one had any ill intentions, you wouldn't dare set foot on Dawn Peak, which was once the center of Ysadrin's realm and is still guarded by the Dawnmartyr Knights who remained after the last battle."

[Finn]

Even just passively listening to the symphonies people projected, coupled with a not-insubstantial emotional intelligence, Finn could intuit some of Karmordi's feelings, contextualizing what he said and what he didn't say, as well. He nodded thoughtfully. A generous heart, he would have offered some monies to help, but he didn't know yet whether there were taboos with such things, either charity for a friend or not allowing a seeker to tackle those challenges on his path with as much self-reliance as possible.

Finn wrinkled his nose briefly at the sight of the empty throat, but smiled at his own show of delicacy. He got his hands dirty, even bloody, when he needed to, but some shit was still gross.

"So many honorifics," he said mildly, still smiling. "I'll have to learn them all. She seems like the sort of hero who hates being reminded of her heroism. Those are the best ones to tease."

He rubbed at his clean-shaven jaw.

"I have met Arcas Reborn. I have even been to his Realm of Light, albeit briefly. I would love to see Ailos if that were possible. But, first things first, how will you contact Innogen? If all else fails, I could have a sentinel glamour you into a human seeming and open a portal into Zaichaer for you, but... I don't know where the covens reside, and I don't know whether your impressive tracking skills would be of much use in the city. It isn't like Drathera at all.

"I wouldn't suggest it as a first choice, but if you have no other way to reach her, my resources are at your disposal."