dear_mun | (no subject)

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?

A hundred leagues? Impossible. I emerged from the Akkaban wastes no more than fifteen leagues from here, roughly northeast of our present location.

[He helpfully points out the direction indicated.]

I know not any of those nations. Are you truly speaking of nations, sir, and not rural provinces?

We set sail from Apulia and arrived on the shores of Lesser Armenia. From there we traveled by foot to Antioch, and were very near to Jerusalem when I became separated from my company...

[Whirling, he seizes the mage's shoulders forcefully.]

Look, man, this cannot be all foreign to you. Saladin's lineage is an Egyptian family, the Ayyubids. Surely you know of them? The Ayyubids of Egypt? God, man, do you know nothing? Not even of Jerusalem? Even the most heathen man in these lands can point me the way to Jerusalem.

Edited 2015-03-29 01:44 (UTC)

Technically Valenwood's been absorbed into the Aldmeri Dominion, but otherwise, yes... [ Unfortunately.

He's looking blank at the list of names when abruptly he's grabbed again. He jerks back a little in surprise. The litany of unknown waypoints makes him start to wonder if he hasn't lost his mind. ]

All I know of 'Jerusalem' is its importance to you.

[ He's frowning deeply. It's as if Bennet were dropped from nowhere like the ancient Pelinal Whitestrake. But that's just a legend, too corrupted to be expected to make sense. ]

Perhaps when your friend is found, it will be as easy to open another portal to your homeland. [ He's a little dubious; he has no idea if it's that simple. ]

[Releasing his hold on his captive, Bennet takes a step back and gathers himself. He's shaken, in a way he is entirely unaccustomed to being shaken.

How is any of this possible? A people that know not of Jerusalem, a Legion in the hinters of ancient Mesopotamia, it's as if his trek into the desert took him out of the world he knows and into another one entirely. Which ought to be impossible. For all that this man may consort with 'spheres' or whatever he may call them, he is just a simple warrior, nothing more.

He hadn't wanted to speak of this. His furrowed brow speaks of his reluctance even before he finds the words. But if he is to make any sense of this at all, he must divulge all information, even that which is of personal shame to him.]

There is one another waypoint you may or may not know. A place within the wastes the locals called 'Akkaba'. Within those wastes, deep in the cradle where our history began, scrolls writ long before my birth told tales of an Eternal Pharaoh, who ruled in antiquity from a tower of power beyond the reckoning of man.

[He sighs. What comes next is painful to recount, yet recount it he must.] Eobar and I heard these tales together and decided to find that tower, to claim its riches and its secrets for our own. But then, the day we were to set out, a mysterious black-haired woman arrived at our camp. A sorceress whose first act was to assault our brothers, yet Eobar took to her as though bewitched. He refused to allow her to be killed and refused to carry on our quest. I resolved to carry on alone. Taking what provisions I could, I rode out into those wastes and spent three days and three nights searching, long enough for my mount to sprain its leg and die in a sandstorm. Before I caught sight of the valley I emerged from, I thought all hope lost, I thought I would die in those empty desert lands. But I did not die. Instead I am here, in this strange land that seems removed entire from any reckoning of the world I know.

[ There is some mercy for him: Stratos listens silently now, without mockery or unkindness. The man's pain is clear enough to see. And he's genuinely straining to find something recognisable in the tale. ]

I'm not certain I can shed any light on it. I don't know how you came here, but any mortal magic that powerful should have been obvious. Unsubtle. If deliberate, someone would surely have been waiting for you. To alter space so smoothly it's undetected would take... an Elder Scroll? The will of the gods?

Or perhaps you were cast out by some foreign power entirely. It does sound as if someone had an interest in thwarting your quest.

[That mercy is a subtle thing but it does not go unnoticed; Bennet feels a pang of guilt for handling him roughly earlier. The mage is telling him the truth, much as he would rather it not be. Everything he has said so far is truth. Which means he truly is lost, lost in a way he can scarcely even fathom.]

Towards the end I was myself dehydrated, half-mad from the tricks of the desert sands... [He hesitates, but then presses on:] I did feel, several times, as though I was being watched. Observed. And yet whenever I would turn, of course no one and nothing was there. I took it then for the leave of my senses, but now I am not so sure.

[His mouth presses together into a thin line.] An Egyptian man, Sahreed, appeared before Eobar and I shortly before we were to test out, just a day before that woman arrived. He claimed to know of the location we sought and offered to guide us there. He changed his mind after coming to blows with Eobar, and I never saw him again. I took him for a mere lapdog, but mayhaps he had something to do with this. Mayhaps he really was a servant of the Eternal Pharaoh, as he claimed to be.

If so, his master is indeed immeasurably powerful. The bounds of this plane are far from unguarded.

[ He ponders. ] I've heard tales from... those who've marched the desert. Of how the heat and desperation turn one's senses. Do you think you would have sensed it, if powerful magic was worked on you?

I believe so. Since my first encounter with a witch, I have found that I can sense it when magic is at work, though how and why I cannot say. I carry no relics, as Eobar did, nor do I hail from any honored lineage.

[He folds his arms.] Someone was watching me in those wastes. Someone or something. I did not feel any of the normal sensations that come with the working of magic, though that proves little. Anyone powerful enough to conceal themselves amidst great dunes of nothing would surely have the power to conceal their sorcery from me as well. It may have been the woman, or that man Sahreed, or even the Eternal Pharoah himself. I will never know, unless--

[He lifts his head quickly. And slowly, he smiles.] ... Unless I returned to the valley I emerged from.

It seems a fair place to start. Short of asking a dragon, you don't have many options.

[ Stratos says it neutrally, although he's hoping to Talos it isn't that simple. That they won't just find a stable path that leads from bleak hillsides to misplaced dunes. He's considered his likely fate if he gets dragged back to this man's homeland and on balance he'd really rather not. ]

[Bennet really doesn't think it will be that simple either, though a man can hope. And the sureness of having a clear path for his boots is, as ever, a fortifying experience for him. He is not quite so encouraged as to smile, but he does look a good deal less dour now.]

Come then, let us set out. As I said, the valley is fifteen leagues away by my reckoning. If we keep a steady pace, we can be there by midday on the morrow.

[ He can hardly wait. At least he'll have plenty to occupy his mind. ]

Very well. [ Stratos turns in roughly the direction Bennet pointed out before. ] This way, you said?

[ He'll just assume the lead. It's not as if he's unfamiliar with this procedure. ]

[Frankly, he is ready for something that will occupy his body rather than his mind. After these many strange revelations and this stranger still situation, a fair bit of trekking ought to do him good.]

Aye, just over those hills and from there down across a bit of a ridge. The ground awaiting us is treacherous, so mind your step.

[He quickly takes up step beside Stratos. Yes, the mage is his guide and his prisoner, but what he is not is a human shield. Bennet has no intentions of using him as such.]