Interlude - Tanyan

The circular chamber was poorly lit. Tanyan couldn’t help but think that was by design, to better intimidate those who came to stand before the Council. There were no light crystals, only a few braziers tactically placed behind columns that created a dim flickering across the old stonework. He had given his report to the Proctor and then waited in his cubicle for what felt like days but had likely only been a few hours. Then he had been summoned.

The treatment wasn’t regular, but nothing about their expedition had been normal. As he had walked from his room toward the council building, many of the younger members had stared, and the customary greetings from his peers had been absent, a near-unanimous shunning that had his nerves on edge.

Upon arrival to the waiting chamber, he had started to smile upon seeing Taniel, but he silenced it when he saw Marcus waiting impatiently on a bench. They were arguing with each other.

“This is all your fault.” The quiet condemnation in Taniel’s voice was met by the mercenary's angry scowl.

Before Tanyan could figure out what was stirring, Proctor Harlsand emerged from the shadows.

“Silence. You have all been summoned to answer the questions of the Council.”

Marcus had his objection, however.

“Bastards, I’ve been waiting for hours. I’ll have my pay for delivering the moss to ye.”

Proctor Harland smiled but didn’t answer him, instead gesturing for them to enter the chamber.

Tanyan had to hide a grin from forming. Marcus had grown more abrasive and troublesome after they had left Elania in the district square. His insistence on being paid only growing stronger when he realized there might be issues taken up with his behavior.

Tanyan had stressed just how much Marcus had put in jeopardy the mission to collect the Glow-Moss with his obsession on replacing his demon with Elania and his fumbled attempt at framing her for theft and the consequent fallout of causing Saren's death.

Marcus let out an angry tssk, at his demand being ignored again, and moved into the chamber. Taniel stood and followed, and Tanyan moved to join them under Harlsand’s untelling expression.

Tanyan had spared no detail of just how close everything was to literally going up in flames and how it was squarely Marcus’s fault. Somehow, he hoped the elders would punish the man, and he doubted that Taniel had spared the mercenary his scorn and anger while being questioned.

With both their testimonies spearing the man, he hoped that the reprimand and punishment he’d receive would be fitting.

As soon as Tanyan crossed the threshold, he felt the temperature drop. He’d only been before the Council once before, for the ceremony that had raised him from apprentice to full member, and it was just as unnerving as it had been then.

It didn’t help that the Council hardly ever showed themselves to the Conclave, remaining completely aloof and apart and only communicating via their chosen Proctors from the main Conclave body. It had been thirty years since the newest Proctor had been chosen, and rumor was that the Council had achieved near immortality by reaching the pinnacle of their classes.

The door to the chamber clanged shut as the three of them reached the center of the chamber, the only part of the room that seemed to remain lit.

Proctor Harland moved to stand before them. “Journeyman Taniel, Journeyman Tanyan, Mercenary Marcus, you have been called to answer the questions of the Council for your actions regarding the Glow-Moss expedition.”

“Journeyman Tanyan, explain the details of the contract you made with the demon called ‘Elania’ and why you thought it was necessary to violate one of the core tenets of the order?”

Tanyan swallowed and began to speak, realizing this was going to be an inquisition.

Tanyan swallowed and slid down the wall to sit on the bench provided. They had grilled him first, without mercy, and he was sure Marcus had laughed at one point. The mercenary had obviously brought up the suggestion that he had ‘relations’ with Elania because a great deal of the questions had revolved around that. It was as if they were searching for a reason he had felt the need to help her.

In the end, the punishment had been heavy. Not just for him, but Taniel as well. The Council's displeasure was well conveyed by the Proctor, although the way the misty darkness billowed in the room, Tanyan swore he could sense the disappointment of the Council forming around them.

Their failings had been clearly laid out before them.

Taniel sat down heavily beside him, without a word. They had both been stripped of their journeyman rank temporarily, and Taniel had been ordered to a long list of menial tasks that would keep him busy doing useless things for months. That was almost a normal punishment, Tanyan thought, compared to his own.

“I have answered yer bloody questions, I want my payment, now!”

Taniel looked up in surprise, never having expected shouting coming out of the council chamber. How could anyone disrespect the elders or dare to make demands of them?

There was no shouted reply; rather, a body flew through the open council chamber doors and thudded into the marbled wall in front of Taniel and Tanyan with a heavy thud. Marcus fell and hit the floor with a second thump before groaning, but he recovered quickly and cursed, gracefully bringing himself back onto his feet.

Except Proctor Harland suddenly appeared and slammed a fist into the mercenary’s stomach. It was a dispassionate blow without any trace of emotion, but Tanyan could see the shockwave roll through Marcus’ body and the anger and rage crumpled out of him even as he spilled onto the floor.

“The Council is obviously displeased with your outburst, Mercenary. You’ll be paid as agreed, but you’ll follow the requirements the Council has stipulated as well, or you’ll face more than a complaint by the Conclave to the Guild.”

It took a moment for Marcus to recover from the blow, but the Proctor waited silently and without any apparent impatience. Tanyan found himself holding his breath when the mercenary did fully come to; it appeared he was about to draw a weapon and attack from the floor. Understanding of just how outmatched seemed to prevail, however.

“What’dya want me to do to the girl?”

“The Council requires you to find her, and watch her. Report back to us her activities. She is an anomaly that can’t be allowed to disrupt our plans. Do this and you'll get the rest of your payment.”

The Proctor opened his hand and loose coins spilled from his palm to clatter on Marcus' head and the floor before the unpassionate monk turned and re-entered the council chambers, the doors slamming shut without anyone touching them.

Tanyan felt the tension die, but knowing he’d likely see more of Marcus in the future didn’t put him at ease, especially with the hateful glare the man was directed toward the closed chamber.

Interlude - Gaston

Lieutenant Gaston watched as Captain Harrik sighed and leaned back at his desk, turning his attention toward the folder in his hands, leafing through the thing folio for show rather than reading anything.

“Lieutenant, can you explain to me just why you let an unrecorded and unbound demon walk right through your Checkpoint as if it owned the place?”

“Captain, the demon in question isn’t unrecorded, I submitted the initial classification, observations, and it is all on file. Wait... unbound?”

Captain Harrik tossed the report across the desk, and it almost slid off the other side, except Gaston managed to catch and recover it.

“Oh I know, I looked at it. Everything in order. Except for the small tidbit that she's apparently unbound and not contracted to anyone and running about as she pleases.”

“Sir, when she came through the checkpoint, she was clearly under contract to someone.”

A small wooden case on the desk held a treasure trove of the Captain’s favorite rolled cigars. He retrieved one and pulled out a gilded cutter. Gaston frowned and braced himself. It wasn’t the first time he’d been called to answer to his Captain, and he knew about the unpleasant cloud of smoke that was about to envelop the room. Smoking wasn’t a typical luxury found in the city. Tobacco and other smokeables weren’t strictly illegal in the city, but they were above-ground. At least in the countries surrounding the smaller city-state.

Why the Captain just had to break one out to smoke while he was there, Gaston didn’t know.

Captain Harrik let out another puff of smoke that seemed to fill the room with the unpleasant smell of smoke before waving his hand dismissing the protest.

“You know what time of year it is. There’s word that Magister Astolf has come to an understanding with Magister Relain. The fact that the Mercenary Guild and Syndicate haven’t had any flareups lately seems to prove the point. Can you imagine if the Council swings into Magister Relain’s hands? Do you think it would be funny if we were running on half the budget and the criminals in the Outer districts were getting what we lost?”

“Sir, I agree that would be a disaster, but how does any of that relate to the demon. There are hundreds of demons in the city.”

“All of which are neatly bound to someone who is responsible for their actions, whether it’s to the service of a Magister or some gutter scum. Who is responsible for this one? We are. You are, Lieutenant.”

“Sir, I don’t think she will be causing any problems. She was in the company of several Conclave monks and didn't seem unhinged. I don’t see how she could have any bearing on the Magister’s dealings anyway.”

“You don’t do you? And they never do, Lieutenant, until they are, and then there is a mess to clean up.”

The Captain raised two single pieces of paper and slid them over to Gaston before lighting his cigar.

“Already two incidents regarding her. One where a woman was nearly beaten to death and more concerning – she bothered an entire row of shopkeepers in the Artisan district enough that one sent a formal complaint.”

Of course, the Captain would consider the complaints from the Artisans a greater worry. They catered to the nobles who could complain to the Magisters. Gaston didn’t reply immediately, but eyed over the report about the woman, then shuffled the other in front to read it.

“Nothing to say, eh? She’s been in the city a single day and already caused trouble. I want you to deal with her, Lieutenant.”

“Sir. I don’t think she’s that much of a threat, from what the reports said she didn’t actually cause the first incident and the complaint by the Artisans – she didn’t cause any trouble other than show up and try and...”

“Dammit man! I don’t care what you think. I’m ordering you to deal with her. If that means hiring a Conclave hitman to take her out, the budget can afford it. If that means you tricking her into following you out of the city then dropping her down a deep hole she never climbs out of, that’s fine as well. Hells, if you want to force her into a contract to serve the fucking Guard or whatever, do that, too. All the others are collecting up these little pet demons like they are mascots, why not the Guard as well?”

“Maybe before we act on any of those options we enlist some surveillance on her? Just to, uhh... determine her value or threat. Sir.”

“Fine. Fine. But you are responsible for what happens, Lieutenant. We don’t need any fuck-ups right now. I’m not just threatening you to be an ass, but the entire Guard is at stake this cycle. We’ll all be out in the gutter if things go sideways and Magister Relain becomes Magus-elect. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”