Aidan

The Realms

Firstday, 5th week of the 9th month, Age of the Chosen 1

Late Afternoon

Searlas's Manor, Termondoon, Mistvale Highlands

Aidan hurried to Aoife's side, but Searlas beat him there. The daoine cait lord flickered, then he was kneeling at her side, cupping her cheek and tilting her head upward. "Be still," he commanded, then, "Clear your mind."

Aoife shuddered and sagged, leaning against Searlas as her breath cleared and slowed. Searlas looked up as Aidan approached, explaining, "The collar can be ... overenthusiastic about enforcing the rules built into it. It reacts poorly when she acts in the heat of the moment. Calming her down is often enough to ease its punishment." He turned his attention back to Aoife. "Now, what caused that reaction, sweetling? You may speak freely."

"Please," Aoife begged, voice hoarse, "please do not make him fight! Lord Aidan is a mage, not a warrior. Ailill will kill him! Please, if you feel anything for me, just let me go with him!"

Sunnild stood at Aidan's side, her wings glinting in the lanternlight, alert for any threats. The sobs coming from Aoife's crumpled form tore at Aidan's heart, and he longed to reassure her, but Searlas's own guards had their hands on their weapons. Instead, he took a step back, behind Sunnild.

"I have to know that he can defend you," Searlas told Aoife. "Through no fault of your own, you have become a prize to be fought over."

"That is not the only reason," Aoife replied, voice bitter and defiant. "Are you willing to say it aloud?"

Searlas raised his eyes to look into Aidan's. "I told you before that we rarely do anything for only a single reason. Having you as my champion would imply an alliance between us, giving me leverage over my enemies. There are also other reasons; it will also provide me with valuable intelligence on your combat abilities, eliminate one of the worst thorns in my side, and give me a measure of your character that is difficult to come across by other means."

Aidan returned the crouching Chieftan's gaze and considered. All three of the conditions Searlas posed were significant: a formal oath was never something to take lightly, allowing a spy into his personal household was an obvious risk, and Aoife didn't overstate just how dangerous a duel was for him. Still, he didn't see any reason to refuse to take an oath not to hurt Aoife, and a known spy was much easier to handle than a hidden one. The third price was the one with the greatest risk.

"You should be aware," Aidan said, "that if I fight Ailill mac Mara for you, only one of us will leave the dueling ring alive. My Skills are not conducive to nonlethal combat. I do not know that I am willing to kill a man for you, Lord Searlas."

"Ailill is a monster in the guise of a man," was the response. "Your restraint does you credit, but Aoife could not have told you the half of what he is guilty of. If I knew he was back in town, I would have had him killed, but one of his supporters hid him from me." Searlas glanced down at Aoife's shivering, shuddering form, then over to Sunnild before meeting Aidan's eyes again. "I would prefer not to speak of such things in front of the ladies. Aoife, you have my leave to withdraw, if you will, and Aidan, you have my word that you are safe within this room."

Sunnild answered for Aidan, saying, "I am Lord Aidan's bodyguard. I appreciate yer concern, but my place is at his side."

Aoife, too, shook her head. "I need to hear," she whispered. "I have to know."

Searlas frowned but returned to his chair. He gestured for Aidan to take a seat as well. "You will want to be seated for this. Ailill mac Mara has killed at least a dozen young women that I know of. The oldest of them was sixteen years old, the youngest twelve. All of them were raped and mutilated in horrifying ways. They were found with semen in the usual places," Searlas's lips twisted into a snarl, "and in deep lacerations in several places on their bodies. Inside the wounds, Lord Aidan. While the poor girls were alive."

Aidan struggled to keep the bile from escaping his roiling stomach. He'd never heard of anything so depraved in either world; even the Taig seemed blase by comparison. "How?" he asked, and, "Why?"

"Entitlement," was Searlas's succinct response. "Ailill grew up knowing that he was almost untouchable and that he could have any woman he crooked his finger at. I can only speculate, but his tastes likely grew more and more degenerate as he continued to push the boundaries without being put in his place. I should not have to tell you that it would be a disaster for all of us if he defeats my champions and wins a duel against me."

"If you're telling me the truth," Aidan said. "I struggle to believe that anyone could be that evil, and I've been at the mercy of a Tainted Wildlord." Searlas's eyes widened a fraction at that.

"Unfortunately, it is all true. I can have the reports brought to Aoife's chambers for you to review if you would like. They were all written years ago."

"Please do," Aidan said. "If what you've told me is true, then I will be your champion." A sob escaped from Aoife. She stood, tossed a tear-streaked look at Aidan, then rushed from the chamber. Aidan watched her go, a frown on his face, then returned his focus to Searlas.

"We will need to discuss the other terms of the deal; I am reluctant to allow a spy for a foreign leader into my personal retinue, and I want some input on the wording of the Oath. I have no problem swearing not to harm Aoife, but I want to make sure there aren't any loopholes that could be used against me."

"Understandable." The Chieftan waved over one of his guards, sent him off with a message to his chief scribe, and then turned back to Aidan. "Do you have any other concerns or conditions?"

"What can you tell me of Ailill's fighting style and capabilities? Aoife wasn't wrong about me; I do know how to swing a sword, but I'm a mage first and foremost, and my specialties aren't defensive in nature."

"Not much, I am afraid. He was still a Commoner when he left my lands. His Class now is Marauder, according to my guard captain. Unfortunately, not a common class among my people, so I am not aware of its capabilities. If I had to guess, I would expect Abilities and Talents focused on moving quickly and hitting hard, but not much in the way of defense. That is only a guess, however."

Aidan grimaced. "That's not good," he said. "It sounds like whichever of us lands the first hit will likely win, and I don't have anything to enhance my mobility. Another question for you: what are the rules about preparing ahead of time?"

"Officially, both combatants are to enter the arena with no active spells. Unofficially, I can promise that the judge will not notice any spells you cast on yourself as long as they are not blatant."

"So no summoning ahead of time," Aidan concluded with a frown. "Honestly, this is sounding worse and worse as we go. Still, I have a couple of ideas. What are the official rules of these duels?"

"Duels are fought in a ring one hundred feet in diameter, leveled and cleared of debris and obstacles. You will each start at opposite ends of the arena with your weapons sheathed, stowed, and otherwise stored away. The first to die, surrender, or leave the ring loses. You are allowed whatever arms and armor you wish. No pre-cast spells, as mentioned, although enchanted equipment is permitted. Anyone who interferes in the duel forfeits their life, so Lady Sunnild will not be able to step in to save you. Aside from that, anything goes."

Aidan nodded. "I see. I am confident I can win, but depending on how things go, I may have to use spells that require me to pay a heavy personal price." If all else failed, he could use Soulfire Blast or Phoenix Pyre, although the latter would require absolute desperation since it would kill him as well. He didn't want to put either Sunnild or Aoife through that.

"It's also quite possible that I will be injured, perhaps severely, as a result. As interested as I am in helping Aoife, and as disgusting as Ailill may be, I'm going to need more from you for this. You want to imply an alliance through my actions, but one of the reasons I took this trip is to see if there was a possibility of a real one. I admit that I'm still not entirely convinced that it would be wise, but if I'm to tie myself to you in the minds of your people, I want it to benefit me as well."

"Indeed?" Searlas leaned forward, setting his elbows on the table. "What sort of treaty would you be interested in?"

"I want a non-aggression pact as a cost for entry," Aidan declared. "I will not fight for your right to rule if you won't agree to that. Beyond that, I am open to discussion. My goal with Ceallach Macht is to return the city to the way it once was, a haven for all the Highlands tribes to share. The Starchasers and Ash Shroud Sisterhood both already have some of their people living there permanently. I've sent missions to the Snow-Water Riders, the Ebon Bone-Kin, and the Sapphire Sky Horde as well, inviting them to take residence."

Searlas snorted. "Good luck with the statues. They do not stir from their cairns."

Aidan smirked and asked, "Oh, you haven't heard? The Horde assisted us at the Battle of Ceallach Macht, and one of them—his name is Sarpedon—is one of my advisors. They haven't moved in yet, but I have good reason to be optimistic that it's just a matter of time."

Searlas looked shocked. "That... is a bold claim, Lord Aidan. I hope, for your and Aoife's sake, that it is true. The gargoyles are quite strict about their neutrality."

"It's true," Sunnild confirmed. "I can't speak about the battle, but I've met Sarpedon. He's helping with designing the city, among other things."

"Hmm. Well, I had no intention of attacking the Starchasers anyway. They beat us in the last war, and that was without the Sisterhood and the Horde helping," Lord Searlas said. Neither Sunnild nor Aidan spoke up to clarify the matter. "I have enough problems with monsters on my eastern borders that a war like that is the furthest thing from my mind. I will happily agree in principle to a non-aggression pact with Ceallach Macht, the Starchasers, and the Horde and Sisterhood as well if they are interested."

"I can't speak for the Horde or Sisterhood," Aidan demurred, "you'll need to speak to them directly about that. Now that our relations are normalized, my second goal is to establish trade with the Mist Stalkers. Besides the usual goods that I'm sure you're familiar with, I can also supply more things like that oil I gifted you with earlier. I have access to a Dungeon rich in such materials. In return, we're looking for iron, copper, tin, and luxury goods."

Searlas nodded. "I am sure something can be arranged once you convince the merchants they will not be killed on sight. I can facilitate such discussions, but I do not control any of the mines."

"Alright," Aidan concluded, "I'll help you. When is the duel?"

"Tomorrow at noon."

Not a surprise, really. "Okay. I'll read through the reports tonight to be sure and prepare tomorrow morning. Just to be clear: I'm authorized to use any and all means at my disposal to win this fight?"

"Anything that is not blatant enough to force my hand, yes. Do what you need to do; I am not going to punish you for removing a threat to my rule."

"Then I'll retire for the night and meet at the arena tomorrow. I assume Aoife knows the way?" Searlas nodded, and Aidan and Sunnild rose and left the room.

Aidan

Early Evening

When Aidan opened the door to her suite, he spotted Aoife curled up in a fetal position on her bed. Quiet sobs echoed through the room. Several stacks of papers rested on the desk; Riama stared at them, her tail lashing back and forth.

"Don't you dare," Aidan warned his familiar. "I need those to stay in the order they came in."

The astral jaguar turned her head to look at him, blinking innocently and projecting . "I have no idea what you mean," she thought back to Aidan.

"Yeah, not buying it," Aidan returned, scooping Riama up into his arms before moving over to the bed. He sat down beside Aoife and laid a tentative hand at the small of her back. "Are you alright?"

"How can I be?" she replied. "You will die tomorrow, leaving me a slave in my own body."

"You are not supposed to make your mate cry," Riama scolded Aidan mentally. "Fix it."

Aidan stroked his hand along Aoife's spine like he would when petting a cat. "Don't underestimate me. I've fought off and killed things much scarier than a heartless, sadistic noble. Unless Ailill can teleport and kill me in a single strike, I will win tomorrow. Otherwise, the only considerations are how much damage I take and how many of my key spells I have to reveal. And look on the bright side: Searlas agreed to release his hold on you. We still need to refine the terms, but we have an agreement in principle."

"You're playing into his hands," Aoife sniffled. "Searlas wants you tied to him for some reason, I don't know why, but with every move, you're traveling deeper and deeper into his web."

Aidan frowned. "You never did tell me why exactly you want to be free of Searlas. I'm not entirely comfortable with how quick he is to resort to killing his political enemies, but I haven't seen anything that leads me to think he's cruel or neglectful. He seems to care for you in his own way."

Aoife jerked away from Aidan's hand and rolled over enough to glare at him. "You've heard him speak about me," she spat. "He calls me his crown jewel, the prize of his collection. I am not an object, even with this fucking thing around my neck! Sure, he cares about me, the same way he cares about this manor or his throne. To him, I'm just another symbol of his status, the same as his other concubines. And make no mistake, when he wants my attention, he does not ask; he commands."

"I see," Aidan said. "Are you angry with me for accepting?"

Aoife kept glaring at him for a few seconds longer before sighing and rolling onto her back. She looked up at him, face red and stained with tears, eyes sad. "No," she whispered. "I'm just scared." She closed her eyes, and when they opened again, they glinted with resolve. "Come here, my Lord. If you are to fight for me on the morrow, let me ensure that you know what you're fighting for."

"I already do," Aidan told her, lowering himself to the bed beside Aoife.

"Then remind me of your promise. Show me what I have to look forward to with my new Master." Aoife tugged at Aidan, pulling him over on top of her.

"She wants you to mate with her again," Riama supplied helpfully. "I will help your winged mate with the papers. Please try to keep your mind to yourself."