dear_mun | (no subject)

[oh. He is very fast. ]

No- [ He stifles the reflexive call to his power - not the moment, not the moment- ] Dead, I could find his tomb. This was nothing. Either the information was wrong, or you're searching on the wrong plane.

[ And which seems more likely, really? ]

[Nothing? What is nothing? Not dead, apparently. Hopefully.]

[He lets the mage go just as suddenly as he lifted him up, standing before him directly now and making no move to step away from it. His eyes never leave the man's face.]

'The wrong plane'... explain this, I know not what you mean by it. You are saying Eobar has left this world without dying? That he has been called into heaven?

[Absurd. Preposterous. Not because it is Eobar, if the Lord would call anyone to his side such it would be him, but now? When they were so close to finding the object of their long search?]

[ This is getting quite disconcerting, between throwing his attention long-distance and getting snatched up and and down like a dragon's dinner. Stratos tries to focus on answering. ]

You have the gist of it. Though I have no idea where he's gone. There are realms - spheres of existence - other than this mortal one. Perhaps that includes the heaven you speak of, but I know of Aetherius and the Oblivion planes, the aedric spheres, the halls of Sovngarde... there are undoubtedly many more.

[Disconcerting is certainly a good word for it. Half of the mage's words fly over his head; Bennet is a warrior, not a philosopher. While enlightening in some ways, the explanation almost makes his head throb.]

Heaven is not a sphere, it is the realm of eternal life where all the Lord's chosen are called to upon the end of their days here. [He drags a hand over his face.] I know not of these spheres you speak of, but if Eobar has been taken to one of them against his will, it is my duty to find him and bring him home. Does your sorcery allow you to access them in any way?

[ He won't deny it's nice to return the favour. ]

You mistake me for a conjurer, sir. I know the art only as its opponent.

[ Almost only. ]

[So finding his friend will mean further traffic with magicians. Lord have mercy.]

Very well. [He sets his jaw and resists the urge to grind his teeth together.] Where might we find one of these conjurers then?

[He's going to be bringing back an entire caravan of captured mages at this rate.]

[ Stratos watches him with care, not entirely unamused by his predicament. Bitter amusement, though, considering the implications. ]

It's a rare skill now. It's easy enough to find rogue dabblers, but one with the talent to open even one portal? One who is trustworthy, and sane?

[ He shakes his head. ]

The last master I heard of disappeared entirely. I fear your search will be a long and tiresome one.

[ And really, he'd rather not speak of the Colleges, far off as they are. Suppose this lunatic actually got inside one? There's only one sure name he knows in this province, and Talos knows he'll keep it safe. ]

[Bennet can only scowl grimly as the implications of what this means sink in. No quick return to his brothers, then. Perhaps this is his penance for abandoning Eobar and pressing on alone.]

Perhaps it may be. If so, you had best become accustomed to tiresomeness.

[He turns away to look out to the sun, lifting a hand to his eyes. Judging how much daylight they still have.]

It is decided then. You will guide me to where I might find a rogue dabbler, and from that dabbler we shall extract information as to find a sufficiently competent conjurer to enlist. Eobar would make every effort to find me, I will not abandon him in his hour of need.

[Simply saying so makes him feel strong again, resolute where moments before there had been only weary confusion. Yes, the quest will be protracted and likely tedious. But at least now he has a goal, a purpose again. A tangible end to reach.

And someone to help him achieve that end, however unwillingly.]

I am unfamiliar with these lands. Which direction will lead us to the nearest town?

[ His determination can't be doubted, give him that. But Stratos thinks of the cost. ]

You'll have us work our way through every necromancer and untrained amateur in the north.

[ He says it with less complaint than exasperated resignation. It's enough to make him wonder if he dislikes the College of Whispers enough to sacrifice a member. Probably not. Not yet.

At least there's a bright spot, with the notion of heading toward people. ]

A little to the north-west lies the road to Dragon Bridge. It's two days north from there.

[ And it has a wonderful, wonderful garrison. ]

[Bennet is not a fool, at least not in matters of duty and honor. He knows how easily this could be a trap.]

[So he rounds on his new friend and pulls him close, not yanking him up into the air at least, but letting it be know just how easily he could.]

Understand this, mage: if you mean to lead me into a trap, many will die. I most likely. But also many of your countrymen, and most certainly you, for I will extract the debt for such treachery to my last breath.

Do you understand?

[He doesn't release the smaller man, but he does give him slack enough to draw breath and answer, if only just.]

Of course. [ He draws a long breath and answers calmly. ] But I recall warning you about your chosen strategy. This land is governed by my people, sir; my comrades are stationed all across the region.

Then you will guide me on how best to proceed without running afoul of your comrades, for I wish not to slay any of your kinsmen without cause. [That settled, he releases the mage once more.] If our approach is like to bring us into the path of any sentry post or garrison camp, you shall warn me in advance. Armed with that knowledge, I will then know how best to proceed.

Now. Take your knife out of your belt and hand it to me. Slowly.

[ He says it as if it's simple, as if people simply won't notice. And Stratos certainly doesn't trust this one when it comes to avoiding casualties. ]

I suppose we'll see how well that works.

[ He'll bet it ends in blood and chaos.

His scrutiny of the man is interrupted long enough to hand over the knife. With no particular qualm. A sword would matter more, even to a mage; the knife is used for little more than harvesting. Good steel, though, properly oiled and sharpened as any tool ought to be. ]

[There is sarcasm there in his tone, true, and Bennet has half a mind to reprimand him for it. But he has cooperated, has not forced him to draw his steel, and that is enough to earn him a reprieve.]

Aye, that we shall.

[His response is arrow straight, taking the mage's words entirely at their face value.

Taking the knife, he examines in quickly, testing its edge and temper between his fingers. A fair enough blade, he thinks, if ill used; with the sheath to his own knife in use, he must tuck it between his own belt.]

Your hands.

[Producing a small coil of rope, he begins binding his captive's wrists.]

Edited 2015-03-28 04:50 (UTC)

[ He can't pretend he wasn't expecting that. Stratos tolerates it and contemplates his options during the inevitable road ambushes. ]

Might I at least know your name?

[ Since they won't be rid of each other in a hurry. ]

[He is half-expecting a struggle and pleasantly surprised when none comes. Still, he does not respond to the question until he has finished with his ropework, looking up with his eyes first before the rest of him follows suit.]

Why, that you might use it in your spellcraft? Names hold power, mage, in this land as surely as any other. Surely you who traffics in the spheres of other realms know this.

[Cagey still, yes. Even with his prisoner now safely disarmed and bound he does not relax, though he is courteous enough to at least grant the man a measure of his personal space again.]

[ He's had quite some practice in keeping a cool expression, but again something faintly pained is creeping in at the edges. ]

Unless you're some sort of daedra, I doubt your name has that sort of power.

[ Why would he even need it, he's wondering? The man's right there. He puzzles over it, then dismisses the question with a shake of his head. He's in no position to object to the man's superstitions. ]

Well, I'll have a name even if you won't. I am Stratos Caelus - of the rank I'm not to speak.

[ His tone is completely bland at that. Names have power, it's true. It's just a subtler power than spellcraft. ]

[The unfamiliar reference - daedra - draws a single blink out of him, but otherwise he remains cool and impassive.]

No more power than any other man's name, unless I have been much misled.

[The frustration he expects and shrugs off. It's the unsolicited offer of his captive's own name, delivered with a resigned sort of exasperation, that draws his attention. He had been looking ahead then, surmises the path least likely to present them danger, when he hears it and glances back.]

A moment's silence, and then:] You will give away your name but not your rank? [A faint smile.] You speak to Bennet du Paris, sir, crusader in the service of the Roi de France, his royal highness Philippe Auguste, and all righteous Christian men.

[Why the abrupt change of heart? It wasn't one, not really, but rather the result of the mage's unexpected divulgence; he could not leave it unmet. A life for a life, a death for a death... a name for a name.]

[ He inclines his head a little in acknowledgment of the name. ]

As you have informed me, I have no rank.

[ He may forgive, but he rarely forgets. ]

However, my orders claim that I am a tribune of the Imperial Legion under the command of General Tullius, sworn to serve Titus Mede the Second, Emperor of Tamriel. [ Less dryly: ] I fear I'm unfamiliar with your people.

[Surrender bought this man some reprieve, but not into perpetuity, so Bennet reaches over and cuffs him upon the crown of his head. It's not a particularly hard blow, meant to be more instructive than painful.]

You would do well to temper your attitude, Stratos Caelus. It will not serve you well in the days to come.

[It's more a caution than a warning, despite how the mage may take it. What follows, however...]

Nor I yours. Indeed, I was led to believe only Moors populated these lands. You say you serve in a Legion? With an Emperor? [He shakes his head, though not in abject denial.] How large is this Legion you speak of? Do they stand for or against Saladin?

[ Apparently this sort of knight doesn't care to be reminded of his words. Nor does Stratos care for being swatted like an impertinent child, so for now he lowers his head and accepts the constraint. ]

Perhaps eight thousand legionnaires in this province. [ Habitually underestimated, but for a moment there's something wistful in his voice. The Legion's suffered since he was a child; they're genuinely overstretched, have been most of his life. ] We have neither dealings nor conflict with this warlord you fight. I'm almost curious to know how he has offended you.

[This sort of knight doesn't care to be mocked, and when they do finally reunite with his company, this tribune will find men much less tolerant than he. Bennet quickly pushes the offense aside, however, lifting a hand to his chin as he considers this new information.]

Has your Legion a treaty with him then? His men must have at least passed through these lands from the south as they made their way to Jerusalem. Saladin's force is thirty thousand men strong, it is said, surely your Legion could not have missed a passing army of that size...? [The longer they speak, the more confusing all of this becomes. A force of eight thousand men, spread out across a province as large as this, is not daunting, but nor is it inconsiderable. Why, then, has he heard no mention of it at all before?]

[ They're undermanned and overworked, but not blind. ]

I trust our scouts better than that. But no envoy has approached us that I am aware of...

Perhaps you've gone a little out of your way?

I wandered the desert for three days and three nights... I could not have gone that far out of my way.

[But there is a new note of uncertainty to his tone now. Ever since he emerged from them, no closer to finding the Eternal Pharaoh's Tower than he'd been before, everything has felt... off, somehow. Different and strange in a way he can't find words for.]

You mentioned your name for this land as Tamriel. How many leagues does Tamriel cover? What nations reside at its borders?

The nearest desert is the Alik'r to the southwest. But that's more than a hundred leagues from here.

[ He has to assume this fellow came by ship, before that. ]

The continent is surrounded by sea. Currently the Empire's southern borders meet Valenwood, Elsweyr and Black Marsh. Certainly no armies have come out of them.

Where did you land on our shores?