Chapter 20

Bianca sat at her parent's table, tail gently wrapped around her seat, swaying from side to side on her lap while her father set down a steaming cup filled the—thus far, only palatable thing to come of her visit. She eyed the dark liquid within, gaze shifting to her father, who merely shrugged at her as he drank from his own vessel, its smooth wooden expense, polished and gently accented by dark designs, their tiny mural catching her eye for the umpteenth time. The world had begun to make—less sense to her as of late… and while much of her was, in point of fact, delighted that her parents and kin did not appear to suffer from the legion's current failings, the fact it was as such, was a decidedly glaring problem. The settlement had risen like a flowering weed… Practically appearing from nowhere and from nothing within the span of a mere month. She had the correspondence, the proof that her timeline wasn't at all incorrect, the letters she’d shared with her parents evidence enough that, until several weeks ago, they were as despondent as any other soon-to-be-abandoned settlement on the fringes of the province. Thus, imagine her surprise when, not only did she learn that the tools she’d spirited away for them were—undervalued from what she’d expected, but that her parent's little community had somehow managed their very own miracle.

Honestly, she doubted that a single dwelling north of Londis not of legion importance could hold even a sliver of quality to what she saw around her, and some had existed, not for months, but years now in excess of her parents own. Their ramshackle dwellings built of timber felled by their own hands, and farms plowed not with animal but sweat and hard work, while commendable towards the spirit and ruggedness of the retired troops, were—not what existed here. More, even should the engineering core have made its way here, whether by chance and luck, or the turning of fortunes for their efforts on the continent, what lay within the budding town was equally impressive as its construction. Handcrafted furniture, as though made by masters of the trade, the initial workings of plumbing, mundane as it was, the confusing abundance of food, wealth and good cheer… No, nothing about any of what she laid eyes upon made any sense…

Worse was how everything seemed to have a—singular and rather convenient explanation… A wizard. And one that had fallen from the sky, no less. A man who had captured his aunt's heart, his cousin's respect and loyalty, as well as her own parent's trust… A man who the villagers revered as a champion to their plights! And that, to the best of her understanding, not a one was willing to surrender information of, even at the end of imperial command. She could see the way the wind was blowing as clearly as any other officer worth their commission could. Knew how her empire planned to abandon its people here… So, it wasn't like she was at all surprised how quickly its people abandoned it in turn.

She hadn't liked the fact that her parents, after giving so much of their lives, had been tossed to the wilderness and told to trundle on until support arrived. But, nobody who served in the legions liked half of what the job entailed. Opinions towards the war effort weren't what was required of oneself, but obedience and loyalty. Granted, those in the village weren’t technically bound by a commitment to the legion anymore, but she’d of thought that its prior members might hold a modicum more respect for their empire than what she’d been made privy to. Jumping ship at the first sign of trouble reflected—poorly upon an individual's character. Though, admittedly, abandoning one's citizens wasn't necessarily a mark of honour either. And that was exactly what had happened these past few years… As generals and executives promised the world to those too wounded to continue or, deemed as needed to build independent strongholds as the continent's first pioneers, it was not the soldiers, but those in command who had failed to deliver on their word…

And yet, so far as Bianca was concerned, one black spot did not excuse or permit the presence of another. And though if she could have had it her way, she’d of rather seen the empire hold triumph over the newest addition to its occupied worlds, its citizenry building wonders upon its lands to strike fear and awe into the natives so they might truly understand how high they might rise through service… She could neither prevent what the dissident whispers within the ranks heralded as inevitable nor could she provide the people of her parent's new home better than what was already here. Strangely, it was that thought more than anything else that truly grated on her nerves. To give so much to the legions, to rise through its ranks and prove herself as worthy, only for her gifts to be viewed as little better than soil, regardless of how those around her assured their thanks to be genuine, was—annoying. Too little too late… but she’d already known that to begin with. The only difference was that a better saviour had arrived before she had, and one that apparently didn't demand blind loyalty while tossing mouldy scraps from gilded plates.

The empire was failing these people, and those like them had failed, in fact… The gleaming heroes and exemplars that stood as brilliant bastions of all that their glorious imperium existed to uphold were simply not enough to fill in the widening cracks where the worms and snakes propagated like carrion flies…

A civil war… the once thought impossible words, whispered upon the forked tongues of commanders too inexperienced to understand how it felt to taste a blade part one's cheek… Bianca adored her country, and had strived to become useful to it, for her life to matter, for her service to mean something. Duty and honour abound, as was The Costis way… Yet, those above, so far as to swim amidst the rootlight itself, seemed to conspire to do little but carve it all away for their own gain… She’d been disillusioned by it all the moment they’d begun giving ground. Had begun to pay credence to the rumours and gossip… paying attention to the little things her patriotism had allowed her to ignore. The war had become a joke. Leaderless, cored out like a hollowed apple, left to rot and fester while forgotten in the backyard… This world didn't matter to those in the core system. To them, it wasn't the culmination of their careers or the effort of their life’s work. Instead, it was hardly a backwater worth little else than its potential as real estate. Which was what made this all that much more—infuriating for her…

She glanced at her father, the man sitting patiently as though standing trial and awaiting her summary judgment as he was playing homemaker in his new abode. His eyes casting nervously between herself, the doors and the beverage he held in his hand's absent claw. She took another deep breath of the strangely captivating liquid, enjoying the rich and blended scents it offered while she sat and considered the situation as a whole. On the one hand, she should drag the lot of them before her praetor under charges of treason. On the other, ignoring that she probably couldn't get away with the former, family meant something to her. Be it her brothers and sisters in the legions, the children under her current command, or her blood, which had been with her for all her life… Family was all… that’s what her father had always taught her. Family above all else. Glory, riches, status. None of it meant a thing if there was nobody around you to share it with. She still believed that, of course… Bianca wasn't a zealot by any stretch of the imagination. Yet, having been caught so flatfooted by the—situation as it were, she found herself, particularly at odds with what she might have even sympathized with had those involved chosen a more civilized way to sell it.

As it stood. She’d been accosted. Humiliated. Her authority as an officer called into question the empire she represented spat on. The gifts she’d procured through no small difficulty—snubbed. To state that she was of a foul temperament was tantamount to irony, given her clear demeanour. And all of this, every single farcical bit, was because of one man. A foreigner, as she understood it. Not even bal. Yet one that her family was willing to suffer through their own blood's disdain and ire for, just to protect him against one of their own and what she represented.

“Ridiculous.” She growled, her father nearly flinching at her snarl as she glared at him, ignoring the peace offering of hospitality just inches from her fingers. “How long has it been now? How many hours since I’ve arrived, and yet, the epicentre of this entire debacle remains notably absent from my scrutiny.”

“He can't fly,” Tavir offered dryly, swirling his drink without sharing more than he already had.

“One is inclined to presume cowardness is involved. Absent as his wife fights on his doorstep, absent as those who sing his praises convene in homes fit for our kind. Absent as I am left waiting here, a centurion of our legions. Forced to stew upon the whim and schedule of an individual, not even of our country. Tell me, father, is he a prince? A king or emperor, even a lord? Or is he just fond of wasting my time?”

“I—suspect his truancy has more to do with his wife than the man himself.” Her father mused, looking almost comically wistful as he spoke. “Sadly my dear, you're authority means little to you're aunt at this moment, and the same goes for the rest of us, you're mother included. But, so is the prerogative of the powerful, is it not? I dare say that our empire acts much in the same fashion to those it deems lesser.”

“And is it still our empire?” She asked, raising a thickly dense red brow at her father who merely shrugged, smiling while raising his glass in mock toast.

“Until the day she no longer stands for what I swore to protect.”

“Cryptic.” She drawled, smiling at the man regardless of her feelings on the matter.

“I’d argue that it's rather plain language, darling. A country, after all, is only as good as the people in it. Sadly, that fact is often overshadowed by those that actually hold its reigns…”

“So you do abdicate receding then?”

“Oh, I suspect the imperium won't even notice that I'm still out here in another year's time.” Tavir chuckled, taking another sip from his coffee before continuing. “A bit of philosophy then for you, eh? If a man loses an arrow in the woods and gives up on finding it, does the hunter who stumbles across its path years later have any less claim to its parts than the man who abandoned it to begin with?”

“Semantics.” Bianca scoffed. “You're a citizen, not an arrow father.”

“And would the imperium come to rescue me from the tricen after they've allowed themselves to be hurled off this rock, or would they let the savages chop off my head and use my skull as a chamberpot?”

“Gruesome imagery, yet I imagine the right answer lies quite plainly for all in the settlement to see.”

“And were the lucky ones!” Tavir grinned. “I'm sure few others in our predicament, many as they are, have daughters so caring and thoughtful as to steal from legion stores, no matter the fact that what was taken would never be so much as missed.”

“Requisitioned. There’s a difference, you know. One being legal while the other a criminal offence. Besides,” Bianca huffed, waving away her sires smirk. “My gifts yet languish in their carts. Not even so much as looked at. I dare say, for the destitute, charity has never had a harder time to please.”

“Ah, and yet, had it arrived but a month sooner, you’d of been hoisted in the air within you're very own parade. Timing, as they say, is everything.”

Her father winked at her, causing Bianca to roll her eyes at the man's impertinence.

She’d—missed him… and, honestly, the longer they spoke, the harder it was to stay mad at it all… Sure, she was a bit grumpy about losing to her aunt, but it wasn't like that sort of thing wasn't without prior precedent. Though, to be so thouroughly overwhelmed was—disappointing. “Why is she so strong?” Bianca found herself asking, sighing before reaching down for the damned coffee. If she was to be made to suffer its tantalizing promises, then she’d at least partake. “Between us, of course.” She amended a moment later after watching her sire shift away, the laughable cheek of it not at all lost on her. “No legions, no centurion Bianca, just you and me, father, a child and her parent.”

“You're oath you won't share what I tell you with any beyond this village?”

“Of course, or does my word mean so little to you?”

“Hmph, such promises aren't to be taken lightly, dear, and once broken, what they represent isn't often repairable.”

“Yes, yes…” Bianca intoned, waving her calloused hand to dismiss her father’s insinuation and, at this point, not really caring. It wasn't like legion command gave enough of a shit to bother with the details at this point, so any formal report she was like as not to make beyond tricen activity would be liable to gather dust on a shelf. And even then, it wasn't like the legions sounded as though they could do much to enforce their will at the given moment. “Should I strip for you and discard my entire panoply until I sit here innocent as the day I was born? Or can you see passed the insignia and armour to whom is exactly wearing them?”

“The mage is powerful.” Her father grunbled, looking to almost depart to some recent memory as his eyes glazed. “He’d said as much when we first met him… well, implied it really… though, at the time, he wasn't what one might call a threat. Hah… didn't last long… Leave the bloody sod out there for a week on his own, and I suspect, had he wanted to, he could have butchered the lot of us in our sleep.”

“Why not collar him?”

“Honor,” Tavir stated bluntly. “he saved your cousin from certain death; the girl managed to somehow get herself caught by a particularly smart cultist… Had her bound, gagged and on the chopping block, two of its own kind sacrificed already…”

“Truly?”

Her father merely shrugged. “As the lad tells it, yes, and, as for our own investigation, brief as it was, accurate is all I can say on the matter. I chose not to bind him out of kindness. One debt paid for another, regardless of our ways. Even if it was an accident, that sort of heroism deserves a reward, regardless of if there were no higher authority than my own to give it.”

Bianca nodded her head. Not faulting her father for his actions as she’d of been likely to do the same. By imperial ruling, any individual caught on their lands without proper permit was, in point of fact, already a slave. And while it was true that citizenry could be attained through acts of valour or exemplary service, the fact that the settlement doubtlessly lacked the resources to bind a new thrall, probably played some small part in it all. Better friends than bitter enemies where it could be permitted after all. “So, he’s strong then…” Bianca stated, wanting to get on with the conversation, and to the parts she was actually interested in.

“No, he’s not.”

“But you said—”

“Powerful.” Her father interrupted with a pointed look. “Not strong, but powerful.”

“Is there a difference?” She laughed, nearly chuckling in earnest at the wordplay.

“Yes, daughter, there is. You'll see what I mean soon enough, I'm sure. But suffice to say that, had he a mind to allow it, you could likely pull him limb from limb with the ease of snapping a baby chicken's neck. Yet, I have it on first-hand authority that he slaughtered no less than fifteen tricen and at least a half-dozen of those wild lighting yaks, all while sitting kilometres away and eating lunch. Not only did it spook Jade and Kilk, two of my best veterans who were allowed a—first-hand look at his capacity for violence whilst he put as little seeming effort into it as he could, but he has made my sister-in-law something of a true abomination… Needless to say, if he can accomplish that for her, then I see no reason he couldn't for himself.”

“So he’s acting weak, as you put it?”

“Or,” Tavir muttered, clicking his tongue as he did so. “He simply can't be bothered, which is as much a terrifying prospect in of itself as would be if he actually were hiding his abilities… Though, from what I’ve gathered, it's a good chance to be the former than the latter.”

“And those—things I saw in the grasslands?” She hedged, leaning in and staring at her old man with quiet intensity.

“Don't fight one. Dianna offered me a warning along those lines herself, honestly… not that we were here under some form of occupation, mind you, but more to avoid—friendly casualties, as she told it. Evidently, she’s of the mind that they are not toys, as my niece likes to call them, but true automatons of war.”

“Their capabilities?”

“Haven't seen it myself.” Her father admitted, taking a long breath. “Though, again, as Dianna has mentioned in passing, she suspects her husband could deal with the legions of this world should they choose to bear down on him and stand victorious. Not without a few scrapes and bruises, mind you. What he has now likely wouldn't nearly be enough but neither, as she pointed out, has he really had a mind to ready his capacity for mass production of his creations. Take that, daughter, as you will.”

She frowned at him but still nodded all the same. The winds of change were indeed blowing if such a sorcerer managed to find its way onto the fringes of their lands, now of all times, when their forces were at their weakest. It almost felt—planned… Though, who would stand to actually gain anything from his presence, if indeed he had no designs on sallying forth to war against them was—well, not exactly forthcoming…

“Talented as he is.” She began again, leaning back in her chair and taking on a more—aloof countenance, having gleaned what she felt she could. “Having him ally with our forces makes it sound as though we could conquer what remains of this world together.”

“We both know there’d be no gain in it for him. Ha! What could those upstarts at command even offer?”

“Legitimacy.” Bianca pointed out blandly.

“When he could wait for the empire to fuck off and take what he wanted of this world for himself?”

“I'm only saying.” She cooed, grinning at her father with a sly cast. “It sounds as though Auntie has him wrapped around her tail. I'm sure she could be convinced to reenlist with the proper application of some good old-fashioned imperial bribery.”

“And here I was thinking much the same thing, but for you dear niece.”

The mood broke as Bianca, pausing, shifted in her seat to turn halfway around, her expression souring a fraction. She watched an older woman walk passed the open patio door. The sudden arrival of the three newcomers having completely slipped her notice until they were already upon her. Still, Bianca rose, wrapping her arms around her mother who moved to close with her, feeling the woman give her a decidedly—concerning squeeze that she’d come to learn over the years, usually meant the woman had—done something her daughter might not exactly care for. Her aunt, by contrast, all but beamed at her as she shortly took her mother's place in her arms, kissing her on the cheek as though they hadn't seen each other in years.

“You're husband then?” She asked, disengaging from the woman who’d been near as a second mother to her in of herself, only for different reasons, as her gaze fell upon a man who she’d have otherwise marked as fey.

Still, the word didn't quite—fit. Though her interactions had been brief in such manners, the fey tended to be more—waifish and thin, with elongated necks and arms and legs, features so sharp as to be alien rather than attractive. What stood before her instead was—decidedly more savage. Bearded though, neatly trimmed, shorter than she honestly expected, though not as the dwarvosi were… Athletic but—thin. No tail, rounded ears and—scented like a whore in a boutique… A mashup, she thought, of several species, potentially the result of some—distant and queer community where everyone had fucked each other into extinction, leaving only this as what remained behind. A bastardization of its sum parts… though, she knew she was being catty… There wasn't anything objectively wrong with the man, save for the fact he wasn't bal. Well, at the very least, he was clean, if nothing else…

The man smiled at her, though she could tell it was a—reserved and almost pained thing, as though she were some responsibiltiy he was being forced to deal with when he’d rather been anywhere else…

“Arthur Ashfield.” He stated, stepping forwards and into her much larger proximity while holding out a considerably smaller hand than her own.

She eyed it for a span, noting its rough edges, the callouses, and the attempts at grooming that scarcely hid the scars and damage, finding herself somewhat surprised by the sight, considering what she had been made to understand of the man. Smiling as congenially as she could manage, she took his offered greeting for what it was, feeling at least some strength in his shake but noting that it was much as her father had said… She could pulverize his extremity with but a modest squeeze… She didn't of course, Bianca wasn't a barbarian after all. Instead, she nodded at the man, pulling away from the somewhat awkward exchange before glancing at her aunt, who was peering about the room with interest.

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“Where has the girl gotten off to now?” She growled, noting the absence of her spawn.

“To feed my soldiers.”

“Oh? And you let her?”

“Am I not with family?” Bianca accused, rapidly growing tired of this game. “Should I be worried that my niece is going to poison her brethren beneath the guise of friendship?

“Fine.” Dianna sighed, cupping her niece's cheek with a hand. “You’ve made your point. Bygones be bygones and the like?”

Bianca didn't bother with a reply. Returning to her seat at the table while her aunt turned to the only true stranger in her midst.

“Arthur, you don't by chance have any—ourdourves or the like squrrieled away do you?”

For his part, her husband almost looked offended, though he winked at her father but a moment before he sauntered to the table and began—manifesting food.

“Part of the feast we had planned…” He admitted, even as he placed platter after platter of strange but—intriguing dishes before them. “Mosty last minute stuff, really, but it's what I have. Tulla’s got the rest on her…” A moment later he was also supplying several bottles of rather—surprising contents. Her eyes growing a fraction wider at the casual display while her mother visibly brightened.

“Is it the same as the previous evenings?”

“Should be a few months older now, but, yeah, same batch.”

“Wonderful. Tavir dear, this is the dry I was fussing over the other evening. Some of the best I’ve had.”

Bianca watched as a—spell seemed to enrapture all those before her; with but the application of food, spirits appeared to soar. Admittedly, she knew what a growling stomach could make a soldier feel but…

“Go on, neice.” Dianna grinned, reaching out to squeeze her arm. “Family, remember? You're among those who love you, let’s at least for a time, dispense with the politics…”

The rootlight had already made its transition to silver by the time Bianca stood, wandering outside, perhaps feeling the mood more than was appropriate, seeking to manage a respite of fresh air on the balcony. She allowed her wings to stretch and release, pleasantly enjoying the feel of working out any cramps that had formed from their inactivity while they’d all sat and talked. For the most part, her questions regarding her aunt's mate had been—appeased in a manner that saw all just a little dissatisfied with the result, which was typically the sign that things had been conducted fairly for all involved in—one manner or another… She leaned over the railing, staring down at the glimmering lights of her forces encampment below and in the near distance, the sounds of merrymaking and good cheer let her know that her cousin had potentially been spreading the wealth of alcohol to her young soldiers as well as a proper meal. She—wasn't angry about it… honestly, this was supposed to be their leave time as well. The only reason they were all here rather than slumming it in their barracks was because she’d dragged them all along. She wouldn't let it become a—habit of course, but she wasn't heartless. Let them have their fun for the evening... why not?

Behind her, the sound of an opening door perked at her ears. Nose scenting the breeze and catching that now familiar perfume that her aunt was practically doused in as though she were a courtesan tempting members of state. The contrast between the devil that had beaten her within an inch of her life time after time again while she’d been mentored beneath the woman's wing and the clean and cultured creature of decadence she saw now was—shocking. That said, clearly, her aunt hadn't lost her edge either…

“He’s not horrible…” She—grudgingly admitted not bothering to greet the other woman as she joined her, leaning on the carved railing.

“Oh, so you approve then?”

“Doesn't matter if I do or not, does it?”

Her aunt didn't reply as she draped a wing over her once protege, Bianca, despite herself, sliding in a fraction nearer and enjoying the warmth offered. They’d been close once. And though adulthood and her burgeoning career had scuffed much of their relationship, the bond still stood. They waited there a time, neither interested in speaking further, both simply enjoying the other's company for what it was worth while allowing private thoughts to develop and manifest at their own pace. Eventually, it was she who spoke again, this time taking in a deep breath through her nose as she allowed a question to escape the crowd of them.

“Whose stronger?”

“Between you and myself?” Her aunt asked, almost unbelieving she’d even question that.

“Him and you.”

“Ah… well, if you're asking who might win in a straight-up mosh, nothing held back. Me. for the time being.”

Bianca looked at her, gaze speculative as her aunt shrugged at her side.

“And later?” She pressed, wondering at her aunt’s mind.

“Whose to really say? Though, if he ever did become so powerful as to conquer me, I suspect it would be of my design rather than his own. Power for the sake of power doesn't exactly appeal to him. However, I do intend to force the issue along to ensure his safety, to some degree at least.

“And my niece?”

“Terrifying.” Dianna chuckled ruefully. “She has not my strength yet, but the trappings will soon be present. Moreover, she—understands her new father’s mind for invention better than myself. I wouldn't dare bring another child into this world who feels they might deserve more than the girl, bloodlines and all that… However, if any new child between myself and my new mate were to one day be queen or king in my place, then Tulla would likely be their imperator. She’s hungry for power like none other within the family is. And, one day, she'll try to take it all, of that I'm sure of it.”

“Queen!” Bianca laughed. “Is that you're goal then? To be the royal of some muddy hovel of a world?”

“Eh, give it a few years, love, and this place will look like Cornin when compared to the landing. We’ve even got portals.”

The young officer blinked, head twitching as she turned to regard her aunt with a healthy sneer. “That’s rich… Do you think so little of me as to imagine blatant lies will amaze?”

“I don't at all, actually. In point of fact, my primary obstacle moving forwards won’t be amenities or infrastructure but people.” Her aunt paused, shifting to grin at her, pulling away, then stretching her own wings as she continued. “However, I know how you are, darling, so I won't presume to convince you with honeyed words. Come, take my hand, and I’ll show you.”

Bianca—hesitated as her aunt’s long znd slender fingers extended towards her, the woman appearing as some creature risen from the void, too good to be true, beauty and lethality incarnate, offering pacts for power and wealth in exchange for allowing chains to bind ones very soul. Involuntarily, she felt her teeth worry at her lower lip, considering her aunt and her claims, everything she had seen thus far and—knew she wouldn't refuse. Yet, empire be damned. Her aunt was blood. And if one couldn't trust their own kin, then one was truly alone in the cosmos. She took the taller bal’s palm, the older woman smiling like the cat who’d just caught the mouse, then, the world—tilted. A familiar array of colours and pastel swirls became Bianca’s reality for entire heartbeats. Her sense of equilibrium shattered, her understanding of all that she knew, that was real, fracturing, but moments before it collapsed, and she was returned to the physical realms.

“I—detest teleportation…” She grumbled, feeling her stomach lurch as she wobbled, having never really gotten that used to the sensation.

“Nobody does love. The only reason portals are used is because they are infinitely more useful than walking or flight.”

Bianca nodded, taking in a lingering breath as she righted herself, scanning their surroundings with near immediacy, as her training was naught to make her do. Slowly, she felt a strange—pang in her guts… though one that was less a physical malady and more—psychological… “The labyrinth…” She eventually stated, peering around at the overly saturated rolling hills and sickeningly abundant flowers and butterflies that flitted about upon what was the first floor of a place she hadn't set hoof on in years. It was unmistakable, for nothing she’d before seen could hold a candle to the sheer malevolence that existed around her… The honeyed trap which would allow the unsuspecting to presume their own infallibility, right until the moment its waning maw opened and allowed one to descend so it might close behind them, was utterly without equal.

“Another of you're husband's tricks?” She intoned, reaching down to pluck a flower before snorting at the realization it was real.

“The only reason he hasn't laid the foundation for a grand archway is that we are not ready for it yet. For the time being, I’ve given Tavir and you're mother the portal cards he’s created to use at their discretion.”

Bianca’s gaze snapped to her aunt as the woman grinned at her wolfishly, clearly fully aware of her own dictation and how it was supposed to sound to the ear. “We both know creating souls isn't—possible… like that…” She hedged, a—concern arising within her as the sudden isolation she now experienced bloomed.

“I'm not here to murder you, my blood. Though, you are correct that, were I to do it, this is somewhat of an—ideal place, isn't it?” Dianna shrugged after a moment, looking entirely at ease as she reached into the void and retrieved several souls that Bianca eyed wearily. “We are here, so I might, as you said before, bribe you; however, that conversation can wait until we’ve had some fun together. For the time being, you may consider these as my husband's gift to you. Though, admittedly, when he was courting me, he didn't bestow any valuables like these to convince me until after it was all said and done, else, I’d of snapped him up the moment he did so.”

“Courtship?” Bianca spat, jerking away at the mere prospect of it, even while her aunt moved towards her, crowding in, lips pressing against her own for several—long moments that extended beyond the chaste, her aunt's hand rising to gently caress her cheek as Bianca stood there—frozen and unable to so much as blink.

Grinning from ear to ear, her aunt separated from the bizarre and intimate gesture as Bianca was left—dumbfounded, earnestly too shocked to react.

“I desire us to be sisters, my dear. Strange I realize, however, I do think you’d be an integral asset to my cause, and if sharing Arthur's gifts and status with you means getting what I want, don't for a moment think I'm too prudish to commit.” Then, Her aunt was departing. Allowing the cards she’d left for her to hover in the air. Her armour flowing about her in a miasma of darkness before she was consumed by her natural defences, everything, from hoof to scalp, covered in her chitenous form. “Do read the cards I’ve shared at your earliest convenience, blood. They are yours now, regardless of any decision you make. Just know, weak as they are in rank alone, they are but the tip of a very deep iceberg of potential.”

Bianca’s mind spun as her aunt sauntered away, hips sashaying in her departure. The young woman coughed, trying to find a semblance of meditation through deep breathing, mind a whirl of confusion and—other more problematic feelings that she had to cast aside before her eyes glanced upon the first tarot that was waiting for her. Magic armorments… The title was—so simple yet so impossibly deep… The card hanging there as though awaiting her perusal, just its name alone causing Bianca’s fingers to shake… She knew the wealth on display here with this simple card alone… even as she noted the disparity that was its tier and rank, the value of such a soul… She reached out, unable to help herself with trembling hands, gaze locked upon the stylish interpretation of a beautifully ornate spear and shield… black metal gilded with gold filigree and ruby accents, the colours of her imperium… The spear was long and elegant, a tool for war as much as ceremony, the onyx tip at its apex large and polished to a sheen. Beside it, a magnificently round shield, nearly two thirds the size of the weapon itself in height, the depiction of the Costis family crest boldly emblazoned upon its mirrored surface that shone like rootlight itself.

Magic weapons were the sort that became heirlooms for but the greatest scions among families known to be truly powerful… Icons as much as tools to be used, to allow one to make a name for themselves… Shamelessly, Bianca hardly wasted a moment adding it to her soul deck, casting aside one of her utility cards and inserting it within herself. She felt its presence a moment later, and before she could even look at the two others still waiting, she summoned the armaments to her side. The shield manifested on her arm, held firmly against the flesh without bracing or strap, ready to protect her flank with its colossal size that allowed her to magically see through its form as though transparent… in her right hand, the spear stood tall, shining beneath the overhead glow of falsified day. Its shaft fitting perfectly in her palm, weight so balanced that she imagined she could rest it upon a pin… A grin, unbidden to her suspicious nature and prior uncertainties, spread as she spied one of the—creatures that roamed the planes. Hoisting the spear like a goddess descended to the mortal realms, she hurled her new weapon with all the force of a ballista, grinning wildly as it punched through the nightmarish creature meant to lure one close with its innocent appearance before it exploded in a fountain of raining gore!

She could sense the energy waiting, vibrating to return to her palm, Bianca allowing new instincts to take over as the yet pristine spear rematerialized in her hand, beautiful and cruel as it was the moment she summoned it. Alas, as many cards of its current state did, the armorments faded away, but a few moments after... But not before she’d begun to laugh at the insanity of it all. This was no bribe… it was hardly a courtship either… It was narcotics. Meant to do naught but pull her in and never let go again.

“You're husband can spare such luxury upon some nameless officer born in the provinces?” She mocked, though as to if it was self-deprecating or otherwise, Bianca didn't rightly know.

“He made them blood.” Her aunt called back, still walking in a meaningless direction as she doubtlessly waited for their way down to arrive. Adding in but a moment later. “For you.”

Bianca scoffed. Hand reaching out to take hold of the other tarots she was being wooed with. A personal storage card and a—portal card… The young woman stared at the third of the set, every iota of focus she possessed honing in on the anomaly within her fingers. The weapon was one thing. Even if the fact it was being given to her under such context was both disgustingly brazen given it was meant to display the wealth on offer, while also despairingly tempting… The personal storage wasn't much better, mind you, but, at least those were a sight more common. That didn't mean they weren't worth a nobles ransome all their own, but, at least, they were within the realm of normalcy. The final card, however, was—different. Though not disappointing, the first pair were of a sort that Bianca had long since accepted she’d never lay her hands upon, excluding fantastical circumstances. Her blood was of a wealthy house it was true, but not that wealthy, and nor was she an individual of any import to those who stood at its head. Her father was a nobody within its ranks, just as she was. The glory and prestige brought to them by their name little more than their meagre birthright. She hadn't even seen her nation's capital, let alone met her estranged kin who dined in the dynastic manse were the true individuals one imagined when speaking her family name resided. The best prospects she might have hoped for were to catch the eye of her distant relatives through merit alone while on a campaign, which was already a depressingly impossible prospect, even prior to the shitshow things now were… She’d of needed to be regarded as a hero of sorts for her reputation to even reach their ears. Yet now, some nameless power that had appeared as though from the ether was seeking her hand like she were the lone child of a senator. Absurd.

And yet the presence of the final card, the first tidbit of proof she’d been able to hold in her hands that her supposed suitor was truly something more than an arrogant fop throwing around his hoard of wealth, was the starkly unthinkable which lay in her palm. Nobody had portal cards that allowed them to enter the labyrinth… and if they did, none spoke of it. Yet here she was, privy to her aunt's own capacity to do exactly that, now gifted with the power to do the same… She smiled. Perhaps for the first time in a day, with genuine glee. Following after her aunt while—rearranging how she’d perceived several—noteworthy aspects of her recent existence...

Arthur cleared his throat as he handed Tavir a card. The man giving him a meaningful look as their game of dice and drinks waited before them, forgotten in the wake of a conversation too delicate to ever repeat beyond the intimacy of their conversation. The older man nodded at him a single time. An entire night's worth of comradery shared in but an eternal moment that was to neither of their direct benefit. With all the women departed, his wife and niece to—wherever they vanished to, his sister-in-law excusing herself for a late night walk, it had been the perfect moment that both men had understood for what it was, to—speak of things best left behind closed doors and absent polite society.

“I uhh, believe it was your roll.” Arthur offered, reaching for the bottle of scotch and topping them both off. The card and advice he’d duplicated and passed along for his new brother safely shared with none the wiser.

“Ah, well, very good then. W-what pray tell was the score again?”

“You weren't keeping count? Gods above I wasn't, I barely know how this damned game is played!”

“The booze can do that to the best of us.” Tavir smiled, trying to shake the slight—sensation that they’d somehow dirtied and profaned the living room with their prior whispers, which felt yet to vanish from the air.

A noise arriving from the back deck caused both men to nearly jump from their skin. Cassandra returning, her wayward niece in hand, and stepping into her abode, only to—sense the curious weight in the air as she did so. The woman glanced between the pair who quickly averted their eyes, both men returning to their game, even if neither quite knew where they’d left off.

“They're still gone?” Tulla wondered aloud, wandering to the table to give the air about it a curious sniff before scowling at the liquor bottle and turning away.

“If they’ve returned, then it hasn't been so here.”

Again, Cassandra leveled her husband with a quizzical look, gaze narrowing as he quickly cleared his throat and stood. “Arthur, my boy, while you're company has been marvellous as always, I’m sure the hours getting late for you.”

Without missing a beat, Arthur stood with a nod, face cast in as neutral an expression as he could manage while reaching out to corral a squawking Tulla, pulling the girl close as he turned her towards her aunt. “We’ll have to do it again sometime, but, I agree, It is well passed Tulla’s bedtime, and, chances are the girls won't be back for some time given their—similarities.”

Tulla glanced up at her father, utterly askance by the words coming from his mouth, looking as though she were about to protest before he squeezed at her shoulders, letting the girl know that something was afoot, but not something that could be spoken aloud. Instead, she just—nodded somewhat solemnly, though was doubtless imessnly curious if her flickering ears were any gauge of it.

Arthur could only smile as his sister stared between all present, mouth hanging partially ajar before it closed, mind trying to work out the mystery of it. “Tavir, Cassie, thank you for the wonderful evening; however, I believe it’s time for us to depart.”

Goodbyes were shared, hugs, kisses upon cheeks, promises for future functions down the road, then, Arthur was on the balcony, still holding his daughter by the shoulders as she peered up at his face, her own scrunched in thought. Behind them, Arthur could just make out Tavir’s voice as he suggested the pair of them embark on a little, late-night flight for a little privacy and alone time, the young man inwardly grinning from ear to ear as he pulled and twisted his magic into fruition.

They were returned to their home after a brief jaunt through what he liked to call slipspace, appearing in their living room where his eyes fell upon the ruined sofa nearby. Tulla noticed it as well and cleared her throat, allowing herself to be steered away from yet another mystery she doubtless wanted to unravel.

“Don't voice the questions you have, and I’ll make you chocolate pancakes for breakfast.”

The girl sniffed, quite hautilly considering where she’d lived only a handful of weeks prior, yet kept her silence all the same, to which Arthur took as a tentative agreement that she’d accept him buying her off. Thankfully, she’d been absent most of the day; thus, nobody had needed to explain what was potentially in the works, an awkward situation at its best… and, now that they were alone, the topic really wasn't something he wanted the delve into with any alacrity… So instead, he just powered right on through, making sure Tulla was tucked away in bed, sweetening the deal by purposefully omitting any specific time she needed to actually turn off her shows. Arthur returning himself to his prior engagements with Benny, curious to see what the dapper A.I. had come up with.