Silence - Chapter 07

In the lower chambers of the Second Floor of the Eyrie, Vessilia Dayne, daughter and heir-apparent to the Duchy of Prax'Vrell sat with her hands folded neatly in her lap. The Second Floor—typically called the Tribunal by the local Guilders—housed the judiciary arm of the Protector's Guild, itself ensconced in the soaring tower at the very center of Haarwatch. The heiress sat upon a blocky stone bench, carved of a uniformly gray granite and enchanted with a subtle durability array. She wasn't bound in any manner, but it felt that way.

Vess sighed and rubbed her right index finger along the web of her left thumb. The room itself—a holding area outside the Tribunal—was warded against sound and other eavesdropping Skills. She even had trouble pushing Mana through her channels, so great was the pressure put out by the numerous hidden arrays. It was uncomfortable, to say the least, and the pressure made it hard to even practice her simpler Skills. There was little for her to do but worry, but at least she was alone.

Ever since she had woken up in the Eyrie's infirmary with six Bronze Rank healers fussing around her, Vess had been lavished with attention. The Silver Rank First Alchemist, Aenea Ty'nel, had ground her poultices and brewed potions for Vess’ recovery herself. It was both expected for the ducal heir and utterly stifling. She had been lambasted with questions by an endless parade of Guilder officials the moment she had been deemed recovered enough to answer them, but hadn't been afforded any satisfaction herself.

Then she heard about the Foglands.

"Vessilia," a voice called out. The smooth sides of her chamber opened, a door appearing from the seamless stone and in walked a tall man with dark hair, dark eyes, and a glower enough to grind a mountain to dust. "I had requested you wait for me, my lady."

"I could not wait on you all morning, Darius," Vess responded, glancing at him with a glare. "This is important."

And I might actually hear something of use! Vess fumed silently. Darius Reed had ample sway among the Guild. He was her Father's Chosen Hand—his military aide for tasks beyond the Duke—and the highest ranking member of the peerage in Haarwatch (excluding herself). Yet he denied her answers to any of her many questions, instead insisting that she remained within the Guild tower—the Eyrie—and convalesce.

"You cannot expect—"

"Why are you here, Darius? In Haarwatch. Who sent for you?" Vess demanded. "Answer me true and I'll let you remain."

Darius, true to form, let his mouth close into a grim line. The man was an Adept Tier combatant, with more Skill levels in Deception than an entire squad of Tin Ranks. She knew, because he had shown her, once upon a time. She had no hope of reading his expression and he knew it.

"Fine," Vess said with a cold finality. "Then leave."

"Vessilia—" he started.

"Leave."

Vess did not raise her voice or even look at him, but she was not proficient at Deception and never had been. Her emotions were plain as day. She didn't hear him move, but she heard the seamless door close with the whisper of grinding stone.

She was alone, again. Vess sighed, part frustration and part confusion.

Darius Reed had travelled, post-haste, the moment she had been suspected missing in the Foglands. He had to have done so, or else he wouldn't have reached the city so fast. The distance between Haarwatch and Pax'Vrell was immense. Clearly her father himself had ordered Darius to move with all speed, and perhaps even granted him leave to use his personal Manaship, though she hadn't seen it. How her father had learned of the issues in the Foglands at all was frustratingly unknown.

It had to have been someone of rank, she surmised. An Elder. One that had been against Magda's plan, perhaps even the same that had organized the failed operation in the first place.

They had traversed the treacherous wilds to—unknowingly, at first—rescue the survivors from a failed Guild operation to occupy and lay claim to the Foglands. Magda's former teammate and longtime lover had been among the missing. She had gathered a team to penetrate the Foglands and recover them or their bodies. And it had been a success! Vess knew it had, deep in her bones, though Darius refused to shed any light on that either.

The Tribunal she awaited involved that failed operation; that much she did know. She had been asked to offer testimony on Magda's activities within the Foglands, and the heiress had jumped at the chance. Not only to get more information or to share her side of the situation, but because she knew her friends would have to be in attendance.

On the other side of the room, a more ornate door slide open with a muffled boom. A voice spoke, it's words dripping with a regal tone and gravitas.

"Lady Vessilia Dayne, Heiress of the Duchy of Pax'Vrell, Tin Rank of the Protector's Guild. Please step forward."

She exhaled, stood, and exited the chamber.


* * *


They were situated among a large crowd in a chamber as big as any Evie had seen before. Seating was tiered, with one's Rank determining their positions. Silver were at the first, lowest row, with Bronze, Iron, and Tin Ranks above that. The floor of the Tribunal was for the defenders and the Council itself, all of whom were Gold Ranked by Guild law. That didn't mean they actually were strong enough for that Rank, but the medallion hung heavy and shiny from their chests regardless.

From left to right were the Elder of Spirit, the Elder of Mind, the Elder of Body, the Elder of Acquisitions, the Elder of Craft, and the Elder of the Barricade. Each was sat upon a high dias, a bench that let them loom over the defenders. Callie, Harn, and Evie were seated at the bottom level, each in an uncomfortable wooden bench and dressed in itchy, stiff clothing. The Inquiry had started half a glass ago, but the Elders hadn't said a word. They were just...whispering to each other.

Evie alternated between drumming her hands on her lap and tugging at her collar.

"Stop fidgeting," Harn grunted. "You look guilty."

"Why do I have to wear a burnin' dress? It's uncomfortable," Evie said. "And aren't we though? We didn't exactly just happen to wander into a restricted area."

"Quiet. Ya didn't do anythin' wrong," he corrected her. He frowned at the dark wooden bench ahead of them, twice as tall as their own seats and emblazoned with a sword and spear crossed over a shield. The Protector's Guild crest. "Remember that."

After slogging through the bright, fog-free, and unexpectedly beautiful Foglands, their group along with over thirty survivors had come knocking on the Haar Gate. It had taken them two weeks, but they had finally reached Haarwatch. Soon after however, Silver Ranks had appeared to take all of them into custody. The why hadn't been fully explained, not to her at least, but everything happened so fast. She didn't even know where they'd taken Atar or the survivors of the Frost Giant's prison.

Truth was, Evie felt numb. She hadn't been solid since Cal had come back without—Someone sneezed in the peanut gallery and she flickered her eyes in their direction. It was well lit in the center, but that left the tiered seating in more of a murky shadow.

Night Eye.

Her natural green eyes glowed a brighter shade, vivid were she in the dark herself. The shadows were peeled back, but all the greeted her were the stoic faces of people she barely knew. Evie had spent the last five years in Haarwatch, but her familiarity was with Cal and her crew. Magda—

Breathe.

She took a breath.

It was damn hard to do. But she did it, and it wasn't a gasp either. Keep it together, dummy.

She would—she would be fine. She just had to control her thoughts. But that was easier said than done.

Maggie would be so mad at me for being in a Tribunal. Disappointed. Evie blinked rapidly. Jokes on her I guess. Can’t tell me what to do anymore.

She grimaced at her own Mind. Rude, even to herself. Either that or accept that—

Breathe.

For a moment she thought of her Born Trait, the random gift the System bestowed upon every newborn. Evie’s was called Mass Shift, and it allowed her to transfer up to a third of the mass of any object to any other object she could touch. It was a powerful Trait, more suited to a brawler than a Guilder, and one she had spent years learning to grasp. She gave away her mass to the bench beneath her. The bench creaked as it strained, but it held and Evie felt light.

Fall down or float away. I know what I prefer.  Evie swallowed. Wish I had my chain.

She wanted to fight something. Anything.

Another breath, and Evie settled back into that comfortable numbness, even if her dress still itched. she had to be here, and not just because they dragged her in. She needed to find her friends. Vess got taken by the Sworn and Felix had disappeared in the Labyrinth. But no one would tell them anything. We’re they already here, in town? In the Eyrie itself?

Were they even alive?

That was when the door behind the Council bench opened up. It creaked and groaned, as if the weight of it was too much for it to function. Evie frowned because it had to be for effect—everything within the Eyrie was kept in pristine condition. Striding out of the door and up to the central seat, was a tall man with a greying beard and sharp eyes.

High Elder Fairbanks, Evie sneered internally. Spirelord himself. She had heard he didn't often attend hearings like this one, leaving it to the lower ranked Elders. Evie supposed she should be flattered, but bile rose in her gorge instead. He was cold and emotionless, a statue of a man come to serve out judgement. Fairbanks stood a moment, surveying the audience around them.

"We are here today to find out the truth," he said with a deep baritone voice. Numb and floaty, she still grit her teeth at how pleasant he sounded. "We are here to right grievous wrongs committed under the Protector's Guild's name and charter. We are here," he said, and this time his voice shook the air. Evie could feel it in her bones, almost. "We are here for justice."

Murmuring broke out among the crowd, and the High Elder let it linger. Evie couldn't help it. She scoffed. The High Elder's eyes pivoted to hers, and she felt the man's Spirit press against hers, ever so slightly. Her mass squirreled away as it was, Evie was still pressed hard  into the bench below. She broke out into a sweat.

Burnin' ash, he's strong, she thought.

The all too physical sensation lingered for only an instant before the chimera-stain looked away. His Spirit retracted and Evie took in a sharp gasp.

"Let us begin with our first witness." The old bastard sat down in the central chair—more a throne, really—and gestured to Evie's right. "Lady Vessilia Dayne, Heiress of the Duchy of Pax'Vrell, Tin Rank of the Protector's Guild. Please step forward."

Evie's scowl turned to surprise, and she shared a look with Harn and Callie. Neither of them looked particularly stunned, so maybe they'd expected this. Evie sure hadn't.

It’s good though, right? She was there, she’s on our side.

Evie hadn't had many friends growing up, for whatever reason. Mags had called her "sour, abrasive, and a jerk" but Evie was pretty sure that was unrelated. With the time they spent together in the mists, Vess had swiftly taken the top spot in a pretty spare list. So her heart had soared at hearing Vess’ name.

The far stone wall split open like a door, and Vess walked out, dark head held high like the duchess she would one day become. The low murmuring in the audience stopped immediately and a hush fell over the Tribunal. Evie half suspected that it was because of how beautiful Vess was; the woman was tall, shapely, had flawless dusky skin, and hair that was annoyingly glossy. And that was without Tempering.

All things considered it was downright unfair.

She sat down at a bench on the far end, squinting into the inscribed light that focused directly on her. Evie doubted she could even see them, and Callie’s warning grip told her that shouting across the dais wasn’t a good idea.

“Lady Dayne, thank you for agreeing to speak,” Fairbanks began.

“My pleasure High Elder. I am willing to be of service to the truth.” Vess’ voice was firm and stately.

“Very good,” Elder Fairbanks said. “Elder Teine, you have the floor.”

A man with silver hair and a matching silver goatee leaned forward. His robes, too, were silver—or at least close enough not to matter. He looked down at Vess from atop his narrow nose, and Evie immediately didn't like him. "You were lured into the Foglands under false pretenses, yes?"

"Yes," Vess admitted slowly. "But that mission was predicated upon—"

"Were you used as a tool, a way for Magda Aren to further her own personal agenda?" Elder Teine continued, flicking through a sheaf of papers. Evie's heart hammered in her chest, and Callie's grip on her arm became a painful shackle. She looked at Callie, and the woman's eyes were practically burning.

"To an extent, I suppose. Magda did not tell us all that she planned when we set out. But we were told once we were within the Foglands—"

"—When you had no means of escape. She told you when there was nothing for you to do but rely upon her and her accomplice, Harn Kastos," Teine stated. His voice betrayed no emotion, whether anger or snide amusement, just irrevocable facts. "Is this not correct?"

Vess paused, and Evie thought her face was...considering. "It is...factually accurate, yes."

"Did Magda flout Guild protocol in any way?" Asked another Elder, this one a woman who absently plucked imaginary dirt from her elaborate metal gauntlets. Elder DuFont, Acquisitions. She felt Harn stiffen in his chair beside her. "Did she not attempt to slay an incursion from the Hoarfrost? Alone?"

"To save the prisoners, yes she—" Vess began, but loud, scandalized murmurs from the crowd cut through her words.

"Silence," Elder Fairbanks said, slamming a small cylinder on the bench. Evie almost thought he used his Spirit to quell them, so fast did the audience shut their traps. "I will have silence in this Tribunal." He turned back to Vess. "My lady, please continue."

"Um," Vess ventured. Evie could see sweat beading on her brow. She raised a hand, blocking the light from her eyes. "My thanks, High Elder. Magda Aren did attempt to fight off an incursion of Risi from the Hoarfrost. However, this was in service of saving the lives of many Guild members who had been imprisoned by the Frost Giants."

The murmuring picked up again, but this time it was quieter. Fairbanks let it continue,  unabated.

"Ahem, yes. We have read the reports from you and your associates, that the Frost Giants had captured a contingent of lost Guilders in the Foglands. We thank you for their rescue. You are a hero for the risks you took on our Guild's behalf." Elder Teine's words were smooth and sweet, but they felt oily to Evie. "But the facts is, Magda Aren lied to the Guild when she applied to bring you and two other Tin Ranks into a restricted zone. And those false pretenses led to her death."

"Yes, she lied to the Guild," Vess admitted. "She as much as admitted to it. But it was to save people that your Guild seemed to have conveniently disregarded!" The heiress' voice shook and she stood from her seat. Like the High Elder, her voice resonated slightly, filling up more space than the slender woman embodied. "Why were these Guilders never rescued before Magda's interference? Why were they within the restricted zone of the Foglands?"

The terraced seating around them burst into furious conversation, and Evie grinned wide. "Got em. Now they gotta admit to their illegal operation." She glanced at Callie, but the woman wasn't smiling. "They gotta? Right?"

"Silence!" Fairbanks barked again, but this time the crowd quieted only after several minutes. "As I was not involved with the original operation, I ask that Elder DuFont answer the Lady Dayne's question. Elder DuFont, you have the floor."

Everyone's attention shifted to the Elder of Acquisitions. The woman was slight, with the face of an aristocrat—all fine lines and rounded edges. She inclined her head to the High Elder. "As you wish. The original operation was a fact finding mission designed to find and—on the off chance they could—secure a way to stop the chimeric hordes from attacking our city. Unfortunately, before it could prove fruitful, we lost contact. The last communication we had with the mission was six months ago, when we had word of a dangerous monster attack. Frost Giants, we now know."

DuFont took a tip of water at her side. It was purely for show, to prove how unconcerned she felt. Evie wasn't fully Tempered yet, but there was little chance a Gold Rank Elder couldn't ignore their Bodily needs for a few minutes. DuFont continued. "After that, we heard nothing more. It was assumed the operation was a failure and, as the Foglands began to fill with an influx of monstrosities once again, it was ruled too dangerous to attempt a rescue." DuFont leaned back and spread her hands, helplessly. "All of this would have been provided to Miss Aren had she simply asked through the proper channels. Had she done so, we could have lent support and prevented her death, as well as the risk of three of our most promising recruits."

The woman's words were so earnest that even Evie was taken in for a moment. A traitorous thought drifted through her Mind, and Evie wondered what might have been had Magda trusted the Guild Elders. Would they have never gone and Maggie be alive? Her common sense caught up with her though. No. They simply would have let Cal and everyone else die. I'm no genius, but I don't gotta be to know the math doesn't add up. They were assumed dead. Why save the dead?

Discussion among several Elders had begun the moment DuFont stopped speaking, and the crowd grew more and more rowdy. Evie looked around, Night Eye activated. There were far too many heads nodding and pointing than she liked.

"Avet's teeth," Callie swore. Her Tempered fingers had pressed furrows into the bench beside her. "We won't win this."

Harn grunted, but it wasn't in disagreement.

"That is not how—" Vess began.

"I have the floor, Lady Dayne," DuFont insisted in a clear but calm voice. "Had Miss Aren chosen to go into the Foglands alone, that is one thing, but she decided to endanger the life of her charges. That is unacceptable."

"The way Magda took action might have been in error, but her choice to save the lives of this Guild were not," Vess said, incensed. Her voice cut through the hubbub and returned silence to the Tribunal. Her brows were furrowed and she looked out at the Elders and crowd with a storm in her features. "Thirty innocent lives were saved by Lady Aren's and Lord Kastos' choices. I ask that this Council truly consider the weight and significance of what they accomplished, when all of you refused to lift a finger. You condemned those people to die. Magda saved their lives."

"Lady Dayne you would be wise to watch your tone," growled another Elder, a hamfisted man that filled his robes to bursting. "I don't care if your father is the Duke of Pax'Vrell. Here you're a Tin Rank and nothing more."

"And you would do well in remembering the men and women you sent into the Foglands to die!" Vess shouted and Evie's heart soared. The crowd burst into excited whispers.

"Silence," Fairbanks ordered, banging his little cylinder again. "We will have silence!"

Before the Elder stopped speaking a tall figure in dark, lacquered armor appeared at Vess' side. The man had moved so fast that seconds after his arrival the air he displaced boomed. Errant breezes whipped across the chamber. He was handsome in the way folks beyond Journeyman were: perfect skin, perfect teeth, and a sort of symmetry to his features that was both pleasing and cold.

"Darius..." Vess whispered.

"We're done here," he said with a glare at the Council. With a gentle touch he led Vess from the witness stand. For a moment, the heiress tossed a glance backward and the two of them locked eyes. Evie tried to smile, and Vess tried right back. The man and heiress were gone a moment later with another swirl of violent wind.

"We shall have a brief recess before proceeding," Elder Fairbanks announced after a moment. He looked...ruffled. His hair had been blown out of order by the wind, and papers had scattered from the bench. "We have heard from the Lady Dayne, and even more testimonials have been rendered unto the council in anonymity. The truth has been laid bare, and we will have our decision shortly."

The Elders stood as one and all of them filed out of the chamber. Evie stared them down, hard enough to spot the considering gaze of Elder DuFont. The woman raised an eyebrow before gathering her robes and exiting.

Evie suppressed a groan. Callie was right. There was no way they'd win against the Guild in its own Tribunal. The fix was in.

Maggie, she thought, turning her eyes skyward. Her gut sunk low, sour and upset. This is a ripe mess you left us.


* * *


"Let it be known: Magda Aren, the woman once known as the Shieldwitch and Silver Rank of the Protector's Guild, is hereby stripped of her rank posthumously and all benefits therein."

Atar stared at the little green stone set into the wall amid an elaborate array. It flashed with every syllable of the recorded message.

"Likewise her accomplice Harn Kastos, the Silver Rank known as Onslaught, will also be stripped of his rank. However, in respect of services rendered and a bright future, Harn Kastos will be merely demoted to Bronze Rank and be forbidden to train new recruits ever again."

"Burning ash," he said. "No word on Vessilia? Or even that layabout chain wielder?"

The green stone quit blinking, its message delivered. To his understanding, similar stones were placed around the Eyrie so that warnings and important messages could be spread quickly and easily. That the Council had decided to announce the results of the Tribunal in this way said a lot about their stance.

Frankly, Atar was on the fence about how he felt. Magda and Harn had lied to him and nearly gotten them all killed. Sure, they'd saved people from a nasty fate, and yes, the Foglands were now fog-free for the first time in Ages, but at what cost? Magda had died, and Felix...they had never found a body. That's what Cal had said. Just when he was starting to like the backwater idiot.

After they had returned to Haarwatch, Atar and the survivors had been separated from Cal, Harn, and Evie. They'd been taken to the Healing Ward up on the fifth floor, while Atar had been brought to the Archives where he'd been told to stay put. No guards or anything to keep watch on him, at least none that he could see, magically or otherwise. Not that he had anywhere to go, or any wish to flee the Guild. His Master had paid a fortune to get him there, the last thing Atar was going to do was jeopardize that.

Not any more than I already have, he thought with a frown.

"You are not allowed in this section, Tin Rank," a voice said from behind him. Atar turned to find a woman with ochre skin and bright, sky-blue eyes staring at him over the rims of spectacles. Her seagreen hair was done up in a messy bun, and her formal robes were buttoned all the way up her neck, but she was quite beautiful. Until she smiled. She had shark teeth. "I'll be happy to escort you to the tomes you are allowed to visit."

Naiad, he thought. A Race born of the rivers, same as Nixies, and entirely alien to Atar's desert upbringing. "If, ah, if you don't mind. I seem to have gotten turned around."

He hadn't, he had just gotten bored and wanted to explore. But the last thing he wanted to do was piss off a librarian of the Archive, no matter how unsettling he found her. The Naiad led him down a maze of stacks and shelves, somehow bringing the fire mage back to his starting spot in a fraction of the time it took him to wander about.

"Here you are, Atar V'as," she said.

Atar started. "How do you know my name?"

"We keep an eye on the most promising recruits," the librarian said with another unnerving smile before turning and walking away.

Atar gathered his nerve and Analyzed the woman.

Analyze.

ERROR.

Analyze Failed.

The pasty fire mage paled even further. Aside from special places like the Foglands, Analyze always worked on those of roughly equal power and advancement. Even for those farther above you, say at Journeyman or Adept Tier, Analyze should  have brought up something.

"Ah, you're still here. Very good."

Atar turned, once again surprised by a voice at his back. Standing near the desk he'd been left at was a man in silver-grey robes embroidered with swooping shapes in emerald green. He was older, though his face was unlined and ageless—evidence of significant advancement—and his hair and goatee were as silver as his robes. Atar immediately knew who it was—his Master had sent him to Haarwatch with the express purpose of studying with this man.

"Elder Teine," Atar gushed, stepping forward and bowing. "It is an honor to finally meet you, sir."

"I have heard much of you, Atar V'as. Not just from your Master, either," the man said with a smile. "Your exploits in the Foglands have reached us too. The capability you have shown with your chosen element is remarkable for one so young. Have you considered expanding your studies?"

"Expanding them, sir? How do you mean?" Atar asked. The flame of hope ignited in his chest. His Master had paid to have Atar sent north, but getting into Elder Teine's good graces was based entirely off personal effort. "I am willing to learn. Sigaldry is my craft of choice, of course."

"Ah! Excellent! Mine as well," Teine beamed at him. "If you are willing to join me in my private classes, then I can help you finish your advancement into Apprentice. You are just the kind of forward-thinking mage this Guild needs, and a worthy inheritor of the magic I have in store." He looked at Atar and extended his hand. "Are you willing to become one of my Apprentices, Atar V'as?"

Atar took his hand, overjoyed.

This was a great day.