Three days alone in the dark, dank cold of a cell. Well, perhaps not that dark, a lighting crystal emitted a steady sterile glow from the ceiling, powered off of Erebus’ siphoned and shackled magic. And not really dank either; it was dry and indeed warm in truth. One didn’t get thrown into one of Seruatis’ hidden cells in the hopes a sharp shock could reform an errant soul. Still, the loneliness gnawed.
The thought galled him, a foe thought long-vanquished returning at this hour to challenge him.
At least it gave him something to do, something to fight, even if it was just himself. It had been a terribly long time since he’d been so idle or so powerless.
Not powerless in that he lacked magic, Seruatis’ cells were exceptionally good at draining magic, but there was no siphoning enchantment in the world that could fully cope with a sudden surge, and there was always power to burn if one was prepared to pay the cost. Powerless in that he was here by his own free will, his captor was the best gaoler he could imagine, himself.
He’d received food and water each mealtime, and not poor food either but some of Agh’zak’s finest, teleported directly into the cell, an extravagant waste of power, but they’d siphoned at least thrice that off of him in just the first day. But no visitors, no contact, no real evidence the outside world continued to exist in his absence.
Until now, at least, the clipped echoes of boots on stone slowly approaching, almost certainly not a guard — the prison beneath Seruatis was large but not so large it would take days for a guard to walk their beat. If it had guards.
There was the sound of a turning key in an iron, or at least iron adjacent, lock that hadn’t been oiled in far too long.
“So do you want me to bring you a ball or something to throw at the wall? Maybe take the chance to finally learn to play an instrument?” Saiko asked as he swung the door wide to grin at him, though it didn’t stop the Spellbreaker in his hands from being levelled unerringly at Erebus’s throat, the merc not stepping past the threshold.
“You weren’t who I was expecting.”
“Yeah well Dus’ kinda loathe to come down here, too many familiar faces I guess, and the head honcho’s been barred from his own prison on account of playing favourites. Didn’t even know this place had a prison.”
“Few do.”
“Thought you’d be more nervous,” Sai observed coolly.
“Well I considered it but you’re not carrying either cigarette or blindfold so I think I’ll see another day.”
“He’s absolutely furious with you you know?”
“I know,” Erebus assured him.
“So how are you planning to get out of this?” The mercenary decided to just directly ask about the issue of the day.
“I’m not. It’s not what I wanted to happen but this is the best outcome I can currently see.”
“Yeah well, circumstances change, you could always claim asylum here.”
“And that would just start this exact same fight again in a couple of months.”
Saiko chewed briefly at his lip before replying, “I’m not much of a philosopher, but maybe that just shows the fight needs to happen?”
“No,” Erebus replied, definite and definitive. “Because it can only end one way. The Immortals cannot be allowed total freedom from law, if they pushed this issue they would find themselves opposed by almost every nation not just on Contenmere but on the face of Reath itself. They would have no choice but to concede, and then they would be bound, their capacity to act curtailed. It would be the beginning of the end.”
“The Swordsman doesn’t believe it will come to that.”
“The Swordsman is an optimist,” the necromancer retorted, “I’m a realist. I cannot escape while in immortal custody, and I doubt I will be given the opportunity once outside of it.” He gave a shrug, “Could be worse, I’ve had a fairly good life I believe, and I’d like to think I’ve done a lot of good with it as well.”
Saiko frowned, “Well, I’ll go tell him your mind can’t be changed.” He reached out his hand, and to his surprise, Erebus shook it.
“I’d consider it a personal favour if you looked after the kid, ideally get him somewhere he can live a normal life if that doesn’t interfere with your apprenticeship.”
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The merc merely nodded before leaving with a final clang and creak of the elderly cell door.
*
“I don’t see why I can’t visit him,” Alec stated for the umpteenth time that day, arms folded rather petulantly though there wasn’t much point given his audience.
Dus’ sigh was long and heart-felt, as it always was when he said it, having been appointed, by fiat, to care for the teen in Erebus’ absence.
The gorgon wearing a full face mask rather than her usual domino-style blindfold. Aged silver, gorgeously carved to show a crying face, the only concession she’d really made to the events of the past few days. Unfortunately, her patience had not held in that time; there was only so many times you could have the same conversation without it devolving to a simple:
“Because you’re not.” It was perhaps to Dus’ credit that she didn’t snap it, speaking calmly if through gritted teeth, “and it’s not in my power to grant you access nor grant you access to the person who can, who also won’t give you access.”
The teenager glared at her, not that she noticed, “That’s nonsense and you know it. He listens to you.”
“Yes. That’s why I don’t have access either,” the gorgon pointed out, her serpent hair dangling limply as they echoed her mood. “I can’t tell you to stop worrying… well I can but I know it won’t work, but you need to stop worrying. Swordsy’s got this.”
That at least broke through her charge’s malaise, “Swordsy?”
It turned out a grin could, in fact, be audible. “He must never know.”
“You have my word,” Alec replied, suppressing what an uncharitable, or perhaps realistic listener would describe as a titter. “But I want to help. To do something. Anything!”
“What you can do to help is the hardest thing I could imagine asking of you, do nothing, just trust that those who can help are doing all they can to ensure his safety and his liberty.”
“And if they can’t?” It was very much an Erebus question, and one Dus didn’t have a good answer for. There was no good way to say what she was thinking, that Lutan had thus far had a counterpunch for every trap evaded and that even if Erebus escaped the noose, there was probably something else waiting in the wings, that she barely dared think of the ways to free her friend (irritating as she found him and his thrice-cursed hero worship) for fear that something might pluck the thoughts from her head and close down any such opportunities, that The Swordsman, stalwart and noble as almost any she’d met in her long, long life might decide discretion to be the better part of valour and honour his friend’s choice to preserve the same status quo they all chafed at.
“They will,” she settled on, reaching out to ruffle the teen’s hair and smiling as he pulled away. She was going to miss Alec, especially when he left; it had been far too long since youth had dared trespass on Seruatis. “You should focus on being ready when the time comes, unless you wish to stay here forever?”
“I’ve thought about it,” the teen admitted, “asked around, as has Holly, we’re both resolved to go. With Erebus that is. It could be years before we get another chance to leave.”
“Yeah that’s Seruatis, lots of arrivals, very few departures.” Dus shrugged, “Well make sure you say goodbye before you leave. I know I’ve got a present for you and I’d imagine there’s a few others who would like to wish you well.”
“I will Dus, promise.”
“Good, now go find someone else to annoy.”
*
“He’s resolved sir,” Saiko said quietly, sat down opposite his boss, the desk between them festooned with a pile of paperwork that certainly hadn’t been there when he’d left.
The Swordsman nodded, not looking up from a rather familiar slim black volume, “I expected as much.”
“Would you actually have helped him escape?”
“He’s my friend,” the immortal replied simply.
“And to hell with the consequences huh?”
“I honestly don’t care where the consequences go. One day that fight’s gonna happen, I’ll probably be there for it, doesn’t matter to me if it’s today or in a hundred years.”
“Some of us here now might prefer it not being today,” his apprentice pointed out.
“True, and the people in a hundred years would probably prefer it had happened a hundred years ago,” he said, finally putting down his book, laying it open on the desk to reveal the small and precise handwriting of Seruatis’ newest prisoner.
“For someone who was prepared to overturn civilisation as we know it if he agreed you seem surprisingly relaxed that he refused, if you don’t mind my saying.”
“That’s because the game’s not over.”
“Seems pretty over where I’m standing, we hold him for a few weeks, during which he’ll outright refuse to escape. The escort arrives to take him away, null cuffs, draining runes the works, he gets tried in a paladin court, dances the hemp fandango and that’s it.”
“Yes but the escort has to arrive, because my friendship with him puts any guards I might choose from here in a less than trustworthy light.” The Swordsman smiled, “And outside Seruatis the sort of elite soldier who would be trusted to contain someone of Erebus’ prowess is rare indeed.”
He handed Saiko a list of names, it wasn’t an especially long list. Twenty names at the most.
“And I have here,” he indicated Erebus’ personal journal, “a complete list of everyone who owes our favourite necromancer a favour.”
The immortal’s smile was positively vulpine, “How many names would you want to bet overlap?”